


The White Lotus Gambit

by Rosie447



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Takes Liberties with Fire Nation Politics and Succession Rules, Cross-Generational Friendship, Gen, Iroh Dies in the Siege of Ba Sing Se, Lu Ten (Avatar) Lives, Order of the White Lotus, The Fire Cousins Have Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie447/pseuds/Rosie447
Summary: By the time Lu Ten returned from the war, he had missed his father’s funeral. He did not get to see him at all until his uncle presented him with the urn on the step of the royal palace. Lu Ten cradled it to his chest with one arm, holding the ceramic the same way his father had once held him  – with far more devotion than his uncle had ever held anything.Or, Acting Fire Lord Ozai sends his nephew to find the Avatar to prove he's ready to take the throne. This cover story becomes infinitely more complicated for all parties when he is seen for the first time in 100 years.
Relationships: Lu Ten & Sokka, Lu Ten & Zuko
Comments: 114
Kudos: 494





	1. Brave Little Soldier Boy

By the time Lu Ten returned from the war, he had missed his father’s funeral. It had been a beautiful ceremony, according to all those that had been in attendance, or at least those in attendance who could be coaxed into conversation. But Lu Ten did not see it. He did not see his father until his uncle presented him with the urn on the step of the royal palace. Lu Ten cradled it to his chest with one arm, holding the ceramic the same way his father had once held him – with far more devotion than his uncle had ever held anything.

It was only then that he noticed the crown nestled in his uncle’s hair. The crown that should have been his by birthright. Uncle Ozai offered no explanation beyond a hand resting on his shoulder, clamped down like more of a command than a comfort.

“The entire nation is moved by this tragedy. We will not let the Earth Kingdom get away with this.”

He did not trust himself to say much of anything.

“Where’s Aunt Ursa?”

Uncle Ozai’s expression soured. “Gone.”

(That was all the explanation he ever got on the matter. When he tentatively broached the subject with Zuko, years later, he was informed that that had been the only explanation ever given.)

* * *

The crowning had gone like this: Fire Lord Azulon received word of his eldest son’s death, and moved the nation into an appropriate, albeit shortened, mourning period. Prince Ozai came to speak with him about the appointment of his nephew, Prince Lu Ten, as the next Fire Lord. The prince was young (despite being well past the age of majority) and grief-stricken. Perhaps it would be better to appoint a regent in his stead. Fire Lord Azulon had not appreciated this gesture of concern (likely deducing it as the shameless power-grab it was) and suggested that Prince Ozai  _ learn _ the meaning of grief. 

That had been an error on his part: There was no one Prince Ozai loved enough to grieve. However, the subject of the alluded to grief was not entirely unloved. 

Prince Ozai never learned the meaning of grief, but he did learn what it meant to lose a father. And a wife. 

As it turned out, neither meant very much to him at all.

He was crowned two days later as Acting Fire Lord until such a time came that Prince Lu Ten was prepared to take the throne. When that time came would be determined by the Fire Lord’s inner circle, to prevent the boy from taking the throne in order to do something reckless out of a drive for vengeance.

If anyone objected to this arrangement, no one said anything. 

* * *

The letter came to him at the best possible time, if such a time existed anymore. Lu Ten was training, going over old katas repeatedly until his arms and legs shook from exhaustion. He had been operating under the assumption that sooner or later Uncle -  _ Fire Lord  _ \- Ozai would be sending him back to the front lines, and would need to be ready. Ready to tear the dirt lovers to shreds in his father’s name and burn their Agni forsaken city to the ground. His fire was burning hotter than it ever had before, certain blasts turning blue. Besides, it was better for his muscles to hurt than for him to pause for a moment and think about the state of things.

He heard the sound of someone approaching and turned. The only person who typically came into these training sessions was his cousin Zuko, whose steps were so light they couldn’t be heard even if Lu Ten was listening for it. Zuzu gave Lu Ten a wide berth and was so quiet approaching that his frustrated growls while practicing would startle his cousin, who had not previously realized he was there. Mostly, he would slip into the other end of the training hall and run his own katas with a determination that oddly mirrored Lu Ten’s own. 

(Once, Lu Ten, slumped against the wall chewing on rice crackers, his fire all but depleted from hunger, watched. It was strange to him, that his cousin looked both so serious and so young. 

“Why don’t you go spend some time with your friends, do… kid stuff?” Lu Ten’s experience with children was exclusively limited to his cousins with whom he had not lived in several years.

“I can’t. I have to keep working, otherwise, Father will be angry.”

“Zuli doesn’t work all the time.” There seemed to always be three laughing little girls conspiring somewhere around the palace. Lu Ten did not remember the names of Azula’s friends but could place their giggles anywhere.

“Azula doesn’t have to work all the time to be good. I’m already behind.”

His father would have had a proverb for this situation. He tried to think of when he had been struggling with new skills as a child. 

“Sometimes… uh, flowers that take longer to bloom are, um… more beautiful?” It had been something like that and sounded infinitely better when he’d said it. Zuzu nodded like it was sage advice, and Lu Ten did not attempt conversation again.)

“I apologize for the interruption,” the messenger, who was probably not particularly loud, but was notably not silent, said. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“This letter is for you, your highness.”

Lu Ten took it and squinted at the seal. “Who’s it from?”

“A friend of your father’s, your highness. A Master Piandao.”

“The swordmaster?”

“Yes, your highness. I believe he wishes to express his condolences.”

Lu Ten did not open the letter until several hours later, in his quarters. He did not want to read another empty expression of condolences. Or a genuine one, which were often laced with a sad fondness that hurt all the more. But Master Piandao had been the swordmaster at the palace back when Lu Ten had just begun his training. He remembered the man was stern but kind, and far less prone to striking distracted students with the hilt of his sword than his successor. Which was the reason he finally decided to open the letter.

_ Prince Lu Ten,  _ it read.  _ I must first begin by offering you my most sincere condolences. Our nation has suffered a great tragedy, and the loss can never truly be replaced. I am reaching out to you as a friend of your father’s. We were close for many years, and though we have not been in touch in a while, I feel from his letters that I know you well. I hope I do not infringe too much, but I was hoping you might deign to take tea with me sometime, to honor his memory. There is a shop nearby that has a most exquisite ginseng with honey that reminds me of him. With a heavy heart, Master Piandao. _

Lu Ten sat up on his bed, which he had been previously flopped ungracefully upon, a tangle of sore limbs, suddenly alert. His father was morally opposed to contaminating his tea with any kind of sweetener, and Lu Ten had inherited the preference. The first time he’d ever asked for it was at the wake following his mother’s funeral. He’d been uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and it was the most subtle way he knew of to signal to his father that something was wrong. His father had checked his temperature, and, apologizing to the fellow guests, led him away from the crowds. It had been their code ever since, for dreary social gatherings and frustrating war meetings, and whenever one of their female guests was exceptionally pretty and Lu Ten thought he might want to talk to her for a bit longer without interference. 

It could have meant nothing, but something made Lu Ten doubt it. He penned a short reply and rang the bell for one of the servants to deliver it. 

* * *

“Prince Lu Ten, you honor me,” Master Paindao said. He looked notably older than the man Lu Ten recalled from his childhood, but still carried with him a kind of severity that made him feel obligated to sit up straight and maintain eye contact. “I am so sorry for your loss. How are you feeling?”

It was an excellent question, and one Lu Ten was not entirely sure he had the answers for.

“I am…” he hesitated, attempting to parse out a diplomatic response, but something about his old swordmaster's expression made him feel compelled to be honest. “I am angry. At the Earth Kingdom.” He swallowed, stopping himself before he could add  _ and the Fire Lord _ . “I was on the battlefield. I know that it can be… deeply impersonal. But I don’t care. They killed my father and I hate them. I’ve been training constantly, every day so that when I return I can defeat them.” 

Master Piandao was looking at him with concern. 

“And it scares me,” he heard himself saying, without really meaning to. “I’ve never been this angry before. You always told me that, both in sword fighting and firebending, it is important to be in control. And I’m not in control. At all.”

“It is only natural that you’d feel like that,” Piandao said gently. “Please, come with me.”

“For what?” Lu Ten examined his still full cup of tea. He’d been gripping it tightly, and it seemed to be steaming more now than when it was placed in front of him.

“I would like to play a game of Pai Sho with you.”

“Now?”

“Perhaps you’d humor me?” Lu Ten might have been mistaken, but he almost thought he caught the shadow of a smile. Wordlessly, he followed, away from the tea room and the servants to a smaller adjacent room, sitting himself down opposite the older man at the Pai Sho board. It was beautiful, ornately decorated.

Master Piandao offered him the selection of pieces. Lu Ten hadn’t played in some time but began with the same move he’d used since his father first taught him to play. 

“You were right about the battlefield,” he said, moving his pieces expertly. “There is a certain distance.” Lu Ten swallowed, and nodded at the table, preparing himself for a lecture on restraint. In truth, he’d been rather hoping for one. With his father gone, there was a notable… lack. “But your father did not die on the battlefield.”

“I kn- what?” Lu Ten looked up, startled. Master Piandao continued moving his Pai Sho pieces, though he was clearly watching the prince from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“The siege had worn on for months, and when Prince Iroh heard of the incident on the southeastern battlefront, he was immensely distraught.”

(The incident Piandao was kind enough to not name was a particularly gruesome defeat of Lu Ten’s battalion. The Earth Kingdom soldiers had prepared a trap for them. They’d been advancing after what they presumed was a retreat when the ground underneath them caved in, leaving dozens of soldiers stuck in the ground or incapacitated with broken limbs. 

Admiral Kokoro, Lu Ten’s commander and friend, had been amongst them. They’d been in the same training class together, and a small part of him had been secretly hoping they might one day be more than friends. She’d realized as soon as her leg was broken what the trap entailed, and told him to take the others and leave before it was too late. He and the other non-injured soldiers did not want to leave their comrades behind, but she’d pulled rank.

They’d barely had a chance to move before the Earth Kingdom forces overwhelmed those trapped in the pit. There had been nowhere to run and Lu Ten and the survivors had been stranded for several days in hiding. By the time they’d rejoined their unit, Lu Ten had discovered that the acting commander had already sent word to his father that he was missing in action, and the odds were not good.)

“I know,” Lu Ten said thickly. He’d received almost daily letters once word had reached his father that he was still alive. Daily letters with a variety of gifts attached, from rare teas to polished knives. He remembered because he’d been so distracted with grief over Kokoro he’d barely skimmed most of them. 

“He wrote to me saying that the shock of nearly losing you had made him want to reconsider his strategy. That he was hoping to push for a settlement with the Earth King to prevent further losses on both sides.”

“He never got word through?”

“No,” Master Piandao said, hands settling to his lap. It vaguely registered that it was Lu Ten’s turn to play. “He did. They were set to open negotiations the day your father was killed.”

His hands were shaking, and it was all he could do to concentrate on breathing.

“It was a trap,” Lu Ten guessed, pushing through the tremor in his voice. Behind him, the flames in the candles were as still as soldiers. “He showed them mercy, and they told him they’d negotiate, only to  _ murder him  _ while his guard was down.”

“No,” Master Paindao said. “He never left to meet them. Your father was killed in his own camp. By one of his own men.”

“How?” His chair clattered to the ground. He was standing now. “How is that even - who? Who killed my father?”

“The soldier’s name was Niko, and he was the son of a poor farmer from the colonies. He did not answer any questions after being apprehended, and died before he could be brought in for official questioning.” A pause. “Poison. It appeared to be self-inflicted.”

“Why?”

“We suspect he was hired by someone.”

“Who?”

“Someone who stands to benefit from your father’s death. Someone who does not want this war to be resolved peacefully.” Master Paindao looked at the collapsed chair behind Lu Ten, who nodded, picking it up with shaking hands and returning it to its place beside the table. Slowly, he sat back down in it.

“Why was I not informed of this? Why does  _ no one _ seem to know?”

“Your uncle thought it best to keep the circumstances of your father’s death secret. To prevent dissent. Those who were there were sworn to secrecy under penalty of death.”

Lu Ten looked back at the Pai Sho board in front of him. Master Piandao had begun a familiar set of moves his father had used often. The white lotus gambit, which had effectively stolen one of his most valuable pieces. He’d never found a way to beat it.

“Why would you risk telling me, then?”

“You deserve to know the truth,” Master Piandao said simply. “And there is something we would like to ask of you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” The old swordmaster smiled. 

* * *

Acting Fire Lord Ozai watched Lu Ten from the entrance to the meal hall. He carried himself like Iroh. It was a new habit. Ozai could not help but think he’d much preferred his nephew as he had been in the first few weeks after he’d returned from the war before he’d lost the crisp military walk, tendency to only speak when spoken to, and penchant for spending entire days running the same katas by himself. The past few days he’d been sharper, more alert. He attempted to engage his cousins in conversation like he was the same cackling schoolboy Ozai had been all too happy to see shipped off to the front lines.

The three of them were sitting around the table, a steaming pot, and a plate of tea-cakes between them. 

“So how exactly does this game work again, Zuli?”

He even  _ sounded  _ like Iroh. And he’d apparently not given up referring to Ozai's children with insipid nicknames. 

“Azula,” Azula corrected primly. “One person is appointed the seeker, typically, it’s the loser of the previous round. Everyone else hides, when the seeker finds someone, they can attack them. If the seeker wins, the person they found helps seek, if they lose, the person they found gets to hide again. I learned it at the academy. And it’s a  _ training exercise _ . Not a game.”

“Well, it sounds fun.” He shrugged and pushed the plate of tea-cakes in her direction in apology for whatever slights his word-choice might have inflicted. After a moment’s deliberation, she took one.

“It  _ is  _ fun. When you’re winning. Which I always do.”

That much was true. One of her trainers at the academy had written a letter concerning Princess Azula’s excessive use of force during one such  _ training exercise,  _ which had left one of her non-bending classmates with third-degree burns. That trainer had since been fired without notice.

“What about you, kiddo?”

Zuko never corrected his cousin on his use of nicknames. He actually seemed to enjoy it, which was distasteful. Perhaps more distasteful was Lu Ten’s insistence of badgering Zuko out of his work. 

“I-”

“Zuko doesn’t do anything for fun,” Azula said, smiling at her brother sweetly. “Because he has no friends.”

“I do too!”

“Sorry,” she rolled her eyes. “I  _ meant  _ he has no  _ human  _ friends.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko snapped, though it was. “I like sword fighting. I use twin Dao.” 

“He  _ used  _ to before Father found out he was slacking off on his  _ actual studies  _ and made him quit.”

“I wasn’t-”

“And what exactly is it you call what you’re doing now?” the Fire Lord made his presence known. Zuko scrambled to his feet with all the grace of a turtleduck on land and dropped into a formal bow. Lu Ten and Azula did the same, with far more coordination. “Or am I to believe you’ve mastered the next six katas since 10:00 this morning?”

Zuko cringed, not looking up. Nor responding verbally. 

“Well, have you?”

“No, Father.”

“Then what exactly are you doing dawdling?”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Go see to your studies. I do not expect to see you at dinner until you’ve completed them.”

“Yes, Father.”

Zuko bowed deeper, before scampering off. Azula snickered, which earned her a look of surprise and slight concern from her cousin.

“Uncle Ozai,” Lu Ten said, rising from his bow. His insistence on familial terms was grating, but until Ozai’s position was more cemented than  _ Acting Fire Lord,  _ there was little he could do to curb his nephew’s insolence. “Please don’t be upset with Zuko. It was my idea, and I had to basically drag him away from practicing. He’d been working for hours, and I don’t think he’d been eating-”

Ozai held up a hand for silence. “Your cousin knows what his responsibilities are, and what the consequences are for not having met them. Azula has no trouble completing her training at an appropriate speed.” At this, Azula puffed up slightly. “His failure to do the same is either incompetence or laziness, neither of which will be tolerated. But I did not come to discuss Zuko.” He nodded to his daughter. “You may go.”

“Thank you, Father,” she said, rising, and bowed again, and nodded to Lu Ten before leaving. 

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” Lu Ten asked as her back retreated behind the door.

“You have expressed interest in returning to military service,” Ozai said, beginning to walk without offering an invitation.

“That is correct,” Lu Ten fell into step next to him. There was a slight hesitancy in the way he responded. 

“I have consulted with the war council,” he continued. “And they have already appointed someone new in your previous position. However, they have come to a consensus on an appropriate alternative assignment, if that is still your intention?”

“It is.”

“Excellent. I will inform the generals. You should have a boat and crew assembled before the week is out.”

Lu Ten nodded. “What is the assignment?”

“We would like you to capture the Avatar.” 

* * *

It was a joke. A spiteful, cruel joke and everyone knew it. No one had seen the Avatar in almost a hundred years, and it took everything in Lu Ten not to snap and recreate one of his now-perfected katas in his uncle’s general direction. Instead, he nodded and retreated to his rooms, and wrote a letter to Master Piandao, using the code he’d been taught, sitting around a Pai Sho board that day.

The response came quickly. They could work with this.

And so Lu Ten said nothing and accepted the assignment.

“I’m going to miss you.”

Zuko had elected to see him off. Azula and his uncle had not. 

“I’ll miss you, too, kiddo.” Lu Ten ruffled his hair, sending his ponytail askew. Zuzu straightened it wordlessly.

“Will you write to us?”

“I’ll try, okay? But I’m probably going to be moving a lot.”

“Okay.” He looked very solemn.

Lu Ten dropped to a crouch in front of him.

“Be good, okay? Work hard, but remember to take a break sometimes.”

Zuko nodded, though Lu Ten very much doubted he’d take that advice to heart.

“You’re a good kid,” he said, then, as an afterthought, because it seemed the appropriate thing to say to one’s young cousin. “Take care of your sister.”

“But she-”

“Take  _ care  _ of her,” Lu Ten almost laughed. “Zuli’s a force of nature but that doesn’t mean she’s invulnerable. You’re her brother.” He swallowed, hefting his bag on his shoulder. He hated the Caldera and did not mind leaving at all, but the look Zuzu was giving him was so  _ fragile  _ that he did his best to look somber. “Wish me luck, okay?”

“Father says the best warriors don’t need luck.”

“They don’t,” he did laugh then. “But they’ll still take it where they can get it.”

“Luck.”

* * *

According to almost every source it was possible to question, Prince Lu Ten of the Fire Nation was a worthless layabout whose objective to capture the Avatar had been long since forgotten amidst his wining and dining at every port friendly to the Fire Nation, and if gossip was to be believed, several that were not. (This was not entirely true.)

According to some of these sources, he would find the wealthiest family available and invite himself and his crew to take up residence at their home, and throw lavish parties that both bolstered the local economy, and absolutely destroyed the property, before packing up his exceedingly drunk crew and wandering off to the next village. (This was true.) According to another section of the available sources, he would throw around his royal title as if it meant nothing, save the opportunity to wow any and all local girls who had an interest in men, and were in his approximate age demographic. (This was also true.)

Following the departure of the prince and his crew, the nearby military outposts would experience some difficulties. The nearly-defeated armies of the Earth Kingdom would inexplicably gain new weapons, the beaten-down villagers would somehow have more food, prisoners of war would slip from the Fire Nation’s grasp and disappear into nothing. According to a still smaller selection of these sources, who were known for their particularly outlandish conspiracies, and were taken seriously by approximately no one, the prince’s arrival and subsequent hasty departure were somehow linked to these events. (This was absolutely true, but who would believe them?)

According to most, they had certainly been fortunate that Acting Fire Lord Ozai had taken the throne before Prince Lu Ten could corrupt it with his lack of efficiency or decorum. (This was blatantly false.)

Lu Ten reclined further on a settee in the sun, the warmth soaking into his skin. He sipped his tea and felt his bending recharging. It had been a long voyage, and they’d run into some trouble with the Earth Kingdom navy before arriving in port. They’d spent a fair bit of time with the fleet on their tail before Lieutenant Jee had attempted an experimental maneuver that involved nearly hitting the rock formations that lined the bay, but was definitely  _ meant  _ to make everyone momentarily concerned for their safety, nothing to worry about, your highness.

He decided they had earned the right to relax a bit. Plus, it was good for his image, in the sense that it was absolutely terrible for his image. He’d expressed his concerns, in the past, that this particular cover would make his citizens less inclined to support him in the future, but that seemed like a problem for future Lu Ten, and present Lu Ten was enjoying the implied “shove off” every such excursion was to his uncle. 

He was nearly 26, and could not be expected to be entirely mature.

“Your highness.”

Lu Ten sat up quickly. He had not been told to expect a messenger.

“What is it?”

Wordlessly, the man handed him a scroll. He cracked the seal with one finger and let it roll out, skimming before his eyes caught the word  _ Avatar. _

“Is this real?”

“Yes, your highness.” A pause. “May I ask what it says?”

Lu Ten read the document again, just to be sure that there was no room for misinterpretation. There was not.

“The Avatar has returned.”

Which was certainly… news. 

* * *

The communication’s network had been buzzing constantly since the first news of the Avatar. Lu Ten was well-positioned for transporting information and spent a decent percentage of the time desperately attempting to parse out what it was the Avatar was doing. 

(Some stories lead him to doubt either the validity of the code or his sources – the Avatar had disrupted the quiet city of Omashu by taking a joyride on the mail delivery system? One of his companions had deliberately gotten caught and put on a prison ship for Earthbenders?)

And then he received word, not from the White Lotus, but from the Fire Nation communication line that the Avatar had been captured. By Commander Zhao of all people. Lu Ten resisted the urge to swear as they crossed onto his ship. Zhao’s men watched from their positions.

“Prince Lu Ten, you honor me,” Zhao said, coolly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“The honor is mine, Commander. I hear you and your men have captured the Avatar.”

He grinned with a smile that could cut glass. 

“That  _ I _ have.” He paused, smile fading slightly. Behind him, one of his soldier’s arched an eyebrow skeptically, and another rubbed their shoulder and winced, seemingly involuntarily. “But you did not come to exchange pleasantries.”

“I did not. I need to speak with the prisoner.” He accompanied this statement with a bright smile that, if possible, soured Zhao’s expression further. 

“I’m not sure we can-”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Lu Ten said, still smiling. “As your prince and future Fire Lord-”

“Of course.” His voice was like gravel. “Right this way.”

Lu Ten followed Zhao down a narrow flight of stairs, their footsteps echoing amidst the metal walls of the ship, and to a small room at the end of the hall. The keys turned in the lock, and Lu Ten ducked inside to see the Avatar, not so much a figure of legend as a small boy, bound with large manacles to the wall, and seated on the floor, looking up at them nervously.

Lu Ten froze. The Avatar was a  _ child.  _

He set his jaw and nodded curtly to Zhao.

“Leave us.”

“If I may-”

“Leave. Us.” Zhao growled, but did so, letting the door behind him shut harder than necessary, and the echo bounced around the walls of the small room. First, he waited until the hollow thuds of footsteps could no longer be heard, and then Lu Ten turned to the Avatar. Slowly, he took off his helmet and lowered it to the ground, dropping to his knees like he was approaching a wild animal.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

The Avatar blinked, and shook his head, examining Lu Ten with interest.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend. Or, at least, I’d like to be. I’m here to help you.”

Lu Ten had expected reluctance or anger. Had prepared himself for the justified vitriol of someone who had lost everything to Lu Ten’s people. What he had not expected was for the Avatar’s face to break out in a wide smile.

“I’d like to be friends, too! I  _ told  _ Sokka everyone in the Fire Nation wasn’t evil! What’s your name? I’m Aang.”

“Um, Lu Ten.” He blinked, surprised.

“It’s nice to meet you! How are we going to get out of here? Break down the doors? Cause a distraction? Are you a firebender? Are you going to firebend?” He spoke fast, fidgeting as he did so, which caused the chains on the wall to rattle. 

“I - uh - discreetly, no, kind of, yes, and no.” He took a few paced forward, now more secure that the Avatar – Aang – probably wasn’t going to jump on him and attack. “Look, this is kind of an undercover operation so we have to be  _ quiet. _ ”

“Right. Quiet. I can be quiet.” 

“Awesome,” he said, somewhat glad that the Avatar was bald because otherwise, it would be difficult to resist the urge to ruffle his hair the same way he used to with Zuzu. “So, what is going to happen is that I’m going to loosen these for you,” he nodded to the chains. “And tonight, a friend of mine is going to open the door. The crew will be distracted, but you’ll have to be fast. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” Aang nodded. “But what about my friends?”

“Your friends?”

“They were captured. They’re being held here, too. We have to help them.”

Which had not been part of the plan and, in fact, complicated it immensely. But there was something in the way he said it that made Lu Ten think that rescuing his friends was pretty much non-negotiable. Which he respected. 

“Okay, I didn’t know that but – but!” He held up a hand to cut Aang off. “We can work it into the plan. I’ll just tell my contact, and we’ll stage a slightly longer distraction. But you have to promise me that you’ll save yourself first. You’re too important.”

“My friends are important!”

“Promise me,” and  _ Agni,  _ he was using his responsible older cousin voice. 

“I promise,” said the Avatar, who could not have been more clearly crossing his fingers. Lu Ten couldn’t help but grin as he set to work on the chains, working the lockpick into the side.

“Thank you for helping us,” Aang said after a moment. “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

“Not if this goes well.” He heard the familiar click and sighed, slipping the pin back into his pocket. “If anyone here asks, I interrogated and threatened you, though.”

“Got it. You were very scary. Way scarier than Zhao.”

And, okay, he might have actually laughed picturing the commander’s face if he heard that, before attempting to mask it as a cough. 

“Perfect,” he stood up and walked back across the cell, sliding his helmet back on. “Take care of yourself, kiddo.”

He rapped twice on the door, and Zhao returned. Lu Ten made a show of annoyance at having gotten zero information about the military plans of the earth kingdom forces. It wasn’t until he was back on his own ship that it registered that he’d referred to the savior of humanity as ‘kiddo.’ 


	2. The Avatar

The fight broke out around sundown. Lu Ten lowered his tea, a hibiscus blend he’d picked up from a merchant outside Omashu. It was good tea, and he found himself wishing he’d thought to brew it earlier so that the ideal drinking time would not coincide with their plan to break the Avatar out of Zhao’s clutches. Sighing, he looked mournfully back at the tea and pulled on his outer robe as he burst out of his tent.

“What is the problem?”

One of Zhao’s guards, whose cheeks were flushed red from anger and a lack of breath, was standing in front, glowering.

“Your men are out of control,” he huffed, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the practice ground. “Your highness.”

“Oh.” Lu Ten said, folding his arms over his chest and arching an eyebrow. “But not my women, then?”

“Your  _ people. _ ”

“Ah,” he nodded. “What is the problem?”

“They are _ provoking  _ our hawkery.”

“Well, that should definitely be dealt with,” Lu Ten nodded. “But since I’m certain that will not be the consensus on the events, perhaps you should go find Commander Zhao. Alert him to the situation.”

“He sent for you.”

“Ah.” Perfect. “Give me a moment.”

He gathered up his hair in a loose topknot and followed the guard across the crowded camp. It hadn’t taken much to convince Zhao to merge their camps. Poor as Lu Ten’s reputation was, he still carried the title of future Fire Lord, and it compensated for a lot. 

As they approached, Lu Ten heard his navigation expert, yelling above a large cacophony “his highness’ birds will eat fresh lizard-mouse roasted on an open flame and  _ nothing else. _ ” This was news to Lu Ten and looked to be news to his birds as well, as this declaration had in no way stopped them from pecking at the dried insects dropped in front of them, along with all the other birds. Behind them, Lu Ten’s men were clustered in small groups, clearly opposed to the larger clumps of Zhao’s men, each looking prepared to strike. 

“Navigator Youta?” He said, forcing his voice to sound exhausted.

“Ah, Prince Lu Ten,” Zhao said flatly. “There appears to be some difficulty with your men.”

“They are attempting to  _ poison _ our  _ birds _ -” Youta, who could not have been more clearly into this role shouted. “These precious birds, who have been raised on meals made from nothing but the finest ingredients-” 

The birds in question continued pecking at the offered food, apparently unaware that they were the subject of debate. Lu Ten glanced beyond the edge of the camp, scanning for the smoke signal on the horizon. The original distraction would only have needed to take a few Earth Kingdom minutes. He had no idea how long it would take to rescue the Avatar’s friends.

“I’m sure that whatever the Commander is feeding his birds is fine.” Lu Ten said, diplomatically. Youta clapped a hand on his chest as if this were the deepest form of betrayal.

“They are feeding them  _ dried cricket-bees.  _ Which, according to extensive-” likely nonexistent “studies, greatly hinders the birds’ ability to fly long distances.”

“That’s not true!” Zhao’s hawk master objected.

“Look it up!”

“I have read that somewhere, I think,” Lu Ten told Zhao, with the most sympathetic expression he could muster at the moment.

“That’s preposterous. This is the way things always have been done, right, Hawk Master?”

“Of course sir,” the man said. Lu Ten looked over to the sky again. There was still no smoke.

“Do you have any live cricket-bees?” He asked.

“Well, yes-” His hands jerked involuntarily towards a sealed basket sitting to his right. Lu Ten noted the motion.

“Perhaps you could feed those to the hawks?”

“Well, you see, your highness, that might not work because-”

Youta straightened, nodding towards the basket, his eyes alight, but expression stiff and formal. There was still no smoke on the horizon. 

(Lu Ten had only been stung before, as a child, when one of his friends on Ember Island had convinced him it was a good idea to practice his fire kick at a live nest. It had not been. They’d been swarmed, and he remembered running into the ocean and ducking his entire body beneath the waves for as long as possible, only popping up for air when necessary, in hopes of waiting the rest of them out.

When he’d returned to the house, welts covering his arms, he’d expected sympathy, but his father had looked at him, one of those rare moments of sternness, and took his arm, gently pulling him onto his lap. He’d found an encyclopedia of the world’s animals, and opened it to the page on cricket-bees, and read to Lu Ten about their life cycle, about the way their society worked, or had worked, before an impulsive boy hoping to impress an older kid had lit their home on fire.

His father warned him that little boys who liked to hurt animals grew into men who like to hurt people. Lu Ten had cried that night, alone, in his room. 

Years later, he would wonder how his uncle treated animals in his youth.)

He nodded.

“Here,” Youta said, “I’ll do it.”

“No!” The poor hawk master, who Lu Ten would have to make sure came out of this incident with his position still intact, yelped. The navigator paid him no mind and threw open the lid. 

The cricket-bees were loose, and within moments, the immediate area had descended into chaos. Nonbenders ran backward. Zhao growled, and threw a blast of fire in the direction of the swarm, and caught the edge of the falconer’s tent in the process. Lu Ten ran forwards, pulling the fire off the fabric and turned to the ground, letting it extinguish. For his trouble, one of the remaining cricket-bees stung him in the shoulder.

He grabbed the area, swearing, and allowed himself to exhale slowly when the smoke signal curved up over the edge of the camp. 

* * *

“I’m telling you,” Aang said. “He said he was a firebender, and he saved us! I told you there were good people in the Fire Nation!”

“I don’t buy it,” Sokka said.

“What do you mean you don’t buy it?” Katara folded her arms over her chest. “Are you saying Aang is lying?”

“I’m saying that this  _ guy  _ if he did help us, was probably a spy. From the Earth Kingdom or something.”

“He said he was from the Fire Nation.”

“Which is exactly what a spy would say.”

“But why would he lie to Aang about it?”

“I don’t know. Spies are weird like that.”

“Right,” Katara said flatly. “How many spies do you know?”

“If they were good spies I wouldn’t know that I knew them, would I?”

* * *

The message reached Lu Ten in the middle of one of his own parties, delivered by Lieutenant Jee of all people. 

(Jee had been with Lu Ten since the beginning, and unlike Youta, was kept in the dark about Lu Ten’s affiliation with the White Lotus. Most of the crew seemed to think their prince was flighty and distracted, but ultimately harmless, and more likely than most generals to give them sick leave of vacation days. This type of attitude never appealed to Jee, however, and he’d never been sure how to act around the man. He was stern, with a soldier’s gait that reminded Lu Ten of the captain’s he’d had in the military, and was clearly bright enough, and paying enough attention, to notice the dissonance between Prince Lu Ten’s public persona and his private one. He trusted Jee enough to figure he wasn’t a spy for his Uncle – Ozai’s spies had been, historically, much less discreet – but had never given any indication he was sympathetic to the cause.)

“This came for you, sir,” he said stiffly, pointedly ignoring the loud music and dancing going on behind him.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Lu Ten nodded, and politely disentangled himself from the assembled company and escaped to a nearby balcony.

The Avatar had been captured by Zhao again, this time with the help of the Yuyan Archers. Lu Ten swore inwardly. He greatly respected the Yuyan Archers, and they had been more legend than anything else when he’d been young. But he was their closest asset, and so he wrote a short, nondescript missive to a few of his crewmen, and slipped outside.

Getting  _ into _ the stronghold was not especially difficult. After the last conflict, Lu Ten thought it best not to announce his presence, and instead lifted a neutral guard uniform from one of his crew, slipping into the familiar rotation schedule. 

The door clicked shut behind him, and he was left with the sound of … croaking?

Then a blast of air hit him in the back. Lu Ten face planted into the door, groaning, as he fell to the ground. He’d never fought an airbender before, and had always wondered how exactly that felt, and if it was like wind. At the moment, all he could sense was that his  _ face  _ had just been slammed into a  _ metal door.  _

“Ow,” he muttered, pulling off the helmet.

“Let me go!”

“That’s what I’m  _ trying _ to do,” he grumbled, standing up, and holding his hands out in surrender. Aang froze, then beamed.

“Lu Ten! You’re here!”

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

“My friends are in trouble.”

“Again?”

The look he got was the particular kind of withering that could only come from a twelve year old.

“They aren’t  _ here,  _ they’re  _ sick.  _ And Zhao took my frogs.”

“Your frogs?” Lu Ten asked, already disliking where this conversation was going. 

“The herbalist said my friends need to suck on frozen frogs to get better. I brought them and now they’re kind of… unfreezing.”

_ Ribbet. _

“Yes, they are.” Lu Ten sighed. “Okay. Can you find more frogs?”

“I don’t know. There are frogs  _ here. _ ”

The novelty of the Avatar being a child had worn off remarkably quickly. Lu Ten began working on the chains. 

“We’ll find your frogs. But we should probably prioritize escaping. Zhao hired the Yuyan Archers. They mean business. We want to avoid getting spotted.”

“Got it. Are you undercover again?”

“I’m  _ sneaking. _ ”

“And you aren’t an Earth Kingdom spy?” 

Instead of answering, Lu Ten summoned a small fire into his palm, heating his lockpick to reshape easier to the lock. It clicked open.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,  _ come on. _ ”

The Avatar was light on his feet and moved quickly, Lu Ten crouched, examining the area outside the door, and pulled the borrowed faceplate down tightly. Not that it would do much in the event that they were caught. 

“Frogs!” Aang hissed, grabbing Lu Ten’s arm, pulling him to the side. The frogs were half-frozen, their front legs dragging their still-iced legs behind them. Aang scooped them up, tucking a few into his shirt, and offered some to Lu Ten, who, after a moment of patting himself down looking for a pocket, slid them underneath his chest plate. 

“Let’s  _ go. _ ”

* * *

Sokka awoke slowly to find that there was a live frog in his mouth, a frog which had apparently decided it no longer wanted to be there. He yelped (in a very dignified and manly fashion) and spit it out, running his hands over his tongue to get out the taste of  _ frog slime.  _ Which was when he saw the Fire Nation soldier sitting next to Aang.

He scrambled for his boomerang, but his limbs had evidently not quite caught up with the whole “not being bedridden” thing, and he collapsed to the ground in an undignified lump. 

“Get away from him!” He said from the floor.

“Sokka, you’re awake!” Aang jumped to his feet in a burst of wind and beamed, oblivious to the Fire Nation soldier sitting directly next to him who appeared to be… making tea over an open flame. “How are you feeling?”

“Maybe you should introduce us,” said the Fire Nation soldier, who was still sitting, evidentially slow getting to his feet and summoning flames to throw at them.

“Oh, right! Sokka, this is Lu Ten. My Fire Nation friend! I told you about him. Lu Ten, this is Sokka. And Katara’s over there!” This last introduction was followed by a near-squeal as Katara also woke up with a frog in her mouth.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Aang brought a Fire Nation soldier with him!”

“It’s Lu Ten. My friend!”

The soldier, who had been watching this entire exchange with a slightly bemused expression waved, and took the teapot off the flame, which had been coming  _ from his hand.  _ Fire Nation  _ and  _ a firebender. 

“So he says,” Sokka muttered.

“Which part?” Fire Nation guy asked pleasantly and poured the tea into two cups. “This should help you speed up regaining your coordination.”

Aang beamed his ‘see, what a nice guy!’ grin. Sokka was unaffected by it. Katara, apparently, was.

“How did you two meet up again?”

“Oh, I got captured trying to find those frozen frogs. The herbalist said they’d help you feel better.” He sped towards Katara, coming to a stop with his head close to her shoulder. “Do you feel better?”

“A bit,” Katara admitted. “I’ll take that tea though.”

“You mean the  _ poisoned  _ tea?” Sokka pushed himself up to a stand, examining Fire Nation guy closely. He held up a hand.

“You have my word of honor that the tea is not poisoned.”

“Honor is a really big deal in the Fire Nation,” Aang added, with that tone he used when he thought he was being helpful. 

“Right. Because everyone we meet from the Fire Nation is just  _ so  _ honorable.” He pushed himself to his feet and glowered, folding his arms over his chest in hopes that it was intimidating enough to compensate for nearly faceplanting.

Fire Nation guy actually looked chastened at that, infuriatingly pleasant expression falling into something more serious. 

“I know that you have no love for my country and I understand why. We’ve done horrible things. Unforgivable things. But there are a lot of people who disagree with the Fire Lord, and who are working against him.” He scratched at the back of his neck, pulling at the hair that had fallen from his loose topknot. “I’m a member of an organization whose goal is to help people who’ve been hurt by the war.” He glanced at Aang. “And protect those who are trying to stop it.”

“Why?” Katara shot him a warning look, which he had years of experience ignoring. “You’re a general or something, right? If you hate the Fire Nation so much, why would you be working for the military?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Katara said. 

“It’s okay,” Fire Nation guy said. “You shouldn’t immediately trust anyone claiming to be your friend. Skepticism can keep you safe. I don’t hate the Fire Nation, but I hate what we have become. And I was appointed to my position because my family has… influence.” He paused. “And I joined the cause because of my father. He was a general, but one day, he realized the damage the war was inflicting -  _ we  _ were inflicting - on the world. He tried to call for a ceasefire, to talk terms of peace. But he was killed by one of his own men before he got the chance.”

“So now you’re trying to do what he couldn’t,” Sokka finished.

“Yeah.” And something about the way he said it, less formal and more human, like he was a bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he was doing, did the trick. Sokka nodded.

“Okay. I guess we’ll trust you. For now.”

“I’ll take it. Tea?” He offered Sokka a cup.

Admittedly, it was really good tea. 

* * *

Lu Ten had been raised in the Fire Nation and spent the better part of his young adult life in the southern waters near the Earth Kingdom. He had never been to either pole and understood why more and more the farther they got north. Mostly, he’d taken to wearing three scarves and carrying around an open flame, neither of which were sustainable solutions to the cold problem.

There was a White Lotus operative in the North Pole, and Lu Ten had to pray that he had been receiving his warnings about the impending invasion. Zhao had recruited his men not long after he’d lost the Avatar a second time, which he had not yet linked to any particular breach in security. Being asked to assist in the invasion force had nominally been a great honor and at the request of Lu Ten’s uncle (who had neglected to send this particular piece of information to his nephew). 

Another frigid wind brushed past, and Lu Ten tied the scarf tighter around his neck. 

“Your Highness.”

“Admiral.” The new title felt unnatural in his mouth. 

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to join the invasion force.” 

He had not had much of a choice in the matter.

(Back in the Fire Nation, there were several political cartoons featuring the stubborn, wayward prince being dragged like a child, kicking and screaming into doing something for his country. There were other political cartoons too, of course, but those with different messages tended to go much further underground, lest their artists be dragged off to the Boiling Rock.)

* * *

The betrayal had gone like this: Prince Lu Ten of the Fire Nation was summoned to discuss the plan for the Northern Invasion with Admiral Zhao of the Fire Nation Army. His intention was to deliberately propose a plan with a few, subtle, flaws, which would then be communicated to his contacts in the Northern Water Tribe. This was the best that could be done while maintaining his cover.

This plan was undermined greatly by the Admiral’s proposed plan, which exceeded any of Prince Lu Ten’s planned suggestions in the limits of its foresight. When it became clear there was no way for the prince to talk the commander out of this particular plan, and that the aforementioned plan had been approved by his uncle, thus eliminating any kind of appeal he might have been able to make otherwise, he graciously dismissed himself, and the following night, he boarded a small craft and set off to inform the Northern Water Tribe in person and offer his services in hindering the Fire Nation army. 

In the interest of an unbiased account, arriving in hostile enemy territory in a Fire Nation craft, wearing Fire Nation armor, and carrying several weapons, was not a foolproof plan, either. 

* * *

Lu Ten came to, dizzyingly cold, with his limbs bound in between spikes of ice. Before him, stood several men, dressed in heavy coats that looked infinitely more effective than his own. The apparent leader, a graying man whose both stance and facial expression were as cool as the ice surrounding him, flicked his wrist and one of the spikes grew upwards, forcing Lu Ten to look up.

“Who are you?”

“Okay,” Lu Ten began. “In retrospect… this looks bad. But I’m on your side. I need to speak with the Chief. Immediately.”

The spike did not move, and the leader’s expression did not waver.

“We have no interest in your lies, Fire Nation.”

Lu Ten decided it would probably not be in his best interest to point out that, had he been lying, he would have likely thought of something a tad more convincing.

“He’s probably a spy,” one of the men said.

“I’m not a spy!” He paused. “I mean, yes, technically, I am a spy. But I’m not a  _ Fire Nation  _ spy. I-”

He was cut off from attempting to explain that when a nearby snowdrift erupted into a flurry of powder. From the falling snow, Aang emerged, followed a moment later by Katara.

“We heard there was a battle,” he said. “And we wanted to-”

“I told him to stay back, Master Pakku,” Katara said, the apologetic expression she was shooting Aang enough to reveal she’d done no such thing. “But he - Lu Ten?”

From his prison of ice, Lu Ten waved awkwardly.

“Hi, guys.”

“It’s okay,” Aang said. “This is Lu Ten, he’s our friend.”

“Lu Ten,” the leader, Master Pakku, repeated. He turned to examine Lu Ten again, who smiled in a way he hoped conveyed nothing but good intent.

“He’s helped us escape the Fire Nation a bunch of times.”

“Twice.”

“Still,” Aang said. “He’s with us. He’s a good guy. What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you,” Lu Ten said.

“About the invasion?” Katara asked. “We, um, know about that.”

“About the invasion  _ plan _ . There’s something you should know.”

* * *

“To what do we owe the pleasure,  _ your highness _ ?”

Lu Ten swallowed, resisting the urge to rub his wrists where the icy manacles had been only moments before. Inside the palace was warmer than he’d expected, and the three scarves were starting to feel as foolish as they looked.

Next to him, Aang skidded to a halt.

“Your highness?”

“You mean you haven’t told them?”

“Told us what?” Sokka’s voice had an edge to it. 

“Your friend Lu Ten is  _ Prince  _ Lu Ten of the Fire Nation, son of Prince Iroh and heir to the throne.”

Three heads swiveled to him in a manner that was disconcerting synchronized. 

“I… didn’t mention that?” He knew very well he hadn’t. 

* * *

“He’s our friend. He’s saved us a bunch of times.”

“Twice. And he’s the Fire Lord’s  _ nephew. _ ”

“But he’s - he’s nice! And he makes good tea.”

“Sometimes evil people pretend to be nice.”

“Okay, but not everyone who is nice is evil. Remember that Ginseng blend he gave us?”

“I feel like you’re fixating on the tea thing.”

“He’s got a point, though.”

“Of course  _ you’d  _ say that.”

“What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just, you’re both too nice. You trust everyone.”

“How can you be  _ too  _ nice?”

“You can trust the family of our worst enemy because he makes good tea.” 

“I wasn’t agreeing about the tea! I  _ meant  _ that he was obviously sacrificing a lot to be here. If the Fire Nation finds out what he’s doing, what do you think they’d do?”

“Unless it’s part of their plan!”

“Do you really think Admiral Zhao would approve of a plan in which he was not the central figure?” 

“That’s… a good point. How long have you been standing there, spying on us?”

“A couple of minutes. You’re blocking the hallway. And kind of loud.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Glad you liked the Ginseng. It was always a favorite of mine.”

* * *

The Spirit Oasis was warm and calm, and Lu Ten could not help but feel that his every breath was an intrusion. He was standing side by side with Katara, and Sokka, as well as Princess Yue. Aang was meditating, his entire form completely still on the soft grass. It was still, and quiet, and outside, their and Lu Ten’s people were fighting and dying. 

“It’s so quiet,” Katara said after a moment. She had begun to weave a thin stream of water between her fingers, letting it wrap in slow circles up her wrist. 

(It had been six years since Lu Ten had been on the front lines. His nightmares often sounded like this, quiet, but with the knowledge that a walking distance away was a disaster that could not be prevented. He did not want to think about the men and women he’d served alongside out there now. And he wasn’t sure what was worse. That he was here, doing nothing, while the people he had sworn to protect suffered at the hands of the people whom he’d betrayed them for, or that, if not for a strange, unpredictable set of circumstances, he would have been amongst them, fighting for the Fire Nation with everything he had.)

The clanking of armor broke the silence. Within moments, they were surrounded. Sokka positioned himself between Yue and Katara, the latter of which closed her fingers into a fist, the stream of water freezing and sharpening to a point. 

“It might interest you to know that I was not surprised at all by your treachery.”

Katara tensed, but Lu Ten held up a hand to her. He turned. “Nothing you say is of any interest to me, Zhao.”

“I’ve already sent word to the Fire Lord.”

“ _ Acting _ Fire Lord.”

“With this act of treason, you have forfeited any right, however slim, you might have had to the throne. You’re  _ disowned, _ and  _ disgraced. _ ” Zhao sneered. “You’ve clearly chosen these Northern  _ savages  _ over your own people.”

Sokka growled.

“I’ve made no such choice. You’re the one who has betrayed our people, not me. The Fire Nation needs the moon to survive as much as the Water Tribes do. The balance between the moon and the ocean sustains life everywhere. Nothing can survive without it. You’re willing to condemn our people for what? For glory?”

“For the Fire Nation!” A sharp blast of fire cut through the air and Lu Ten snapped into motion. As did the soldier, Katara, and Sokka, behind them. One of the soldiers grabbed Yue by the arm, and she struggled for a moment before slamming her foot into the side of his knee and stumbling forwards.

Zhao advanced on the oasis. Lu Ten shifted his stance, daggers of fire flickering in his hands.

“You’re a traitor. Just like your father.”

The daggers turned to open flames. Imprecise. Thrashing above his palms. He threw them forwards.

“My father was a good man.”

“Your father was a soft-hearted coward, who could not do what needed to be done,” Zhao sneered, Lu Ten’s flames shattering outwards without making an impact. “And it looks like you’ve grown into the same. The people will never follow you.  _ Your people  _ think you’re a disgrace.”

“You’re wrong!” 

“People like you and your father are a weakness that should be purged from the Fire Nation!”

Lu Ten spun into a kick, daggers reforming. 

* * *

Katara had never thought to imagine what a night without the moon would look like. 

In the most basic, unpoetic of terms, it was  _ dark.  _

But somehow, the darkness was more, something that was creeping beneath her very skin, as if everything that she was had been drained from her, and she was somehow both herself and not herself all at once. The water whip dropped to the ground, shattering in a million droplets and sinking into the grass.

“No,” the word came out strangled. It seemed the world was glowing red, like the eyes of a wild animal in the dark and she was dizzy. There was a flash, fire cutting across the sky and the fight between the Firebenders continued as if nothing beyond the simple lack of light had changed. 

She ran to the side of the pool with Yue, Sokka, and Aang. The latter of which had dropped to his knees in front of the pool, and was holding the moon spirit, burn mark fresh on its side, close to his chest like he was cradling a small child.

“What do we do?” someone asked, and it might have been her. 

“I don’t know,” someone else said, and it was probably Aang.

“I think I might,” Yue’s voice was soft. “The moon spirit gave me life once. I think I can give it back.”

“Give it back? What do you mean–”

She took a step forward.

“What? No!” Sokka grabbed her arm. “You can’t! I – I’m supposed to protect you.”

(And that wasn’t the first time she’d heard him say those words like a confession. The first time, they had been younger. Their father had just left, and their fishing boat had gotten caught and thrown out away from the shore. 

He’d tried to boost her onto a nearby iceberg, while he attempted to save the boat. She’d shouted at him and told him he was stupid, and he’d told her she was just a little girl who didn’t know anything, and that Dad had said he was the man of the tribe now. She remembered because she’d been angry enough to scream, but then the current had been too strong, and she’d seen her brother being swept away just like her father and mother and she couldn’t be alone and pushed and pulled at the current until Sokka was breathing heavily beside her on the iceberg as their boat skidded away.

She’d hugged him then, burying her face in the fur lining on his coat, and that was when he said it. She’d blinked, wiping her eyes, and slid backward so he could see her face.

“How about we protect each other?”

He’d agreed then, but she knew it would be years before he’d actually become comfortable with the idea.)

“It’s okay, Sokka,” Yue said, cupping his face with her hand. “This is what I was meant to do.”

As she waded into the pond, the air around them was tinged with light, and silently threaded her fingers with her brothers. He squeezed back so tightly it almost hurt.

(Later, she would ask him if he wanted to talk, even though she already knew the answer would be no.) 

* * *

Lu Ten cut his hair around a week after the battle. Sokka wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but from the strangely sympathetic expressions he was now getting, he had to deduce it meant  _ something.  _ Something important. 

It was short now, falling just above his ears, a few months shy of a respectable warrior’s wolf-tail, much less a Fire Nation topknot, and staticky from the three scarves he insisted on wrapping around his neck every time he went outside, despite having been offered a proper coat on multiple occasions. He looked less like a soldier than he had before.

“Hi.” Lu Ten sat down on the icy wall next to him.

“Your hair is short now,” Sokka noted, and then cringed inwardly. Lu Ten’s hand flew to the ends, his expression a bit lost. Sokka tried to think of what Gran-Gran used to say, whenever he was settling into a new haircut. “It looks nice. It, um, frames your face.”

That provoked a laugh at least, watery and light, and when Lu Ten turned to him, he looked like he was trying very hard not to cry, despite smiling.

“Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ ,” he echoed. “I’m sorry about… everything.”

“Me too,” Lu Ten said softly, but meaningfully. “You doing okay, kiddo?”

And maybe it had something to do with the haircut, or the scarves, or the stray tea-leaves caught in the fur lining of his jacket, but for some reason, ‘kiddo’ didn’t come across as patronizing, only incredibly fond. 

“I’m alright.” It almost wasn’t a lie.

* * *

“Prince Lu Ten is a traitor. His behavior during the Northern Invasion has solidified what we long feared to be the case - that his lack of decorum, nor regard for our delicate operations was caused not by the challenges of grief, or youthful indiscretions, but deliberately, in hopes of aiding our enemy. Such behavior will not be tolerated. Your cousin must be taken care of  _ immediately _ .”

Zuko was quiet, seated on the hospital bed, his head bowed respectfully, and his fingers wound in the thin blanket.

“Your task is simple. You must find Lu Ten, and return him to the Fire Nation. Dead, or alive. Am I understood?”

“Yes, father.” His voice was soft and scratched.

“You have shamed yourself, and worse, you’ve embarrassed me. You will not be welcome here until this task has been completed. Only then, can your honor be restored to you.”

“Yes, father.” Zuko chanced a glance upwards. “I will not disappoint you again.”

_ Every breath you take is a disappointment to me.  _

“See that you don’t,” he said instead and left the room without another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next week, we check back in with little cousin Zuzu. :)


	3. Little Cousin Zuzu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: violence towards animals

If there was one thing that Lu Ten had not accounted for when committing high treason against his country, and becoming a fugitive on the run with the Avatar and his companions, it was how much he was going to miss the company of adults.

“ _ Give it back! _ ” 

He blinked, ending his morning meditation session early, for what was the fourth day in a row. There was a thud behind him, as a half-asleep teenager collided with the trunk of a tree. 

“Stupid lemur!”

“He isn’t stupid!” Aang responded as more of a reflex than anything. Lu Ten had suggested he help make tea in the mornings as a method of getting more comfortable around fire in a non-combat environment before learning to bend it. At this point, all that involved was sitting by the kettle, waiting for it to whistle, and then taking it off the heat immediately to keep it from overheating. Which, for an easily distracted twelve year old, was taking slightly longer to master than it really should have. 

(He was somewhat reluctant to begin actual training, which Sokka had explained was a result of accidentally having burned Katara when he tried to learn previously. Lu Ten could empathize, but was growing slightly impatient.)

“He took my belt!”

“You shouldn’t have left it out!” Katara called from the small nearby pond, water shimmering between her hands as she shifted through the basic positions. Waterbending didn’t use katas to learn the way Firebending did, and Lu Ten found the entire process fascinating. 

“It was hanging up drying with all the other clothes,” Sokka said, smacking his palms against the tree, which shook the branches, but did little to dislodge the lemur hiding near the top. “He took it deliberately. This? Is personal.”

Momo chittered, as if in agreement.

“It’s not personal,” Aang said. “He thinks you’re playing a game.”

“Then  _ why  _ am I the only one he ever plays with?”

Lu Ten curled his hands into fists in his palms, the fire flickering above them evaporating into nothing. He was, admittedly, getting used to this. The wind rustled his newly shortened hair against the back of his neck. He was getting used to that, too.

* * *

“So this one doesn’t actually do much?”

Some of Lu Ten’s Pai Sho pieces had gotten lost in transit, and he’d been forced to replace a few of them with random objects. Some of the replacements were working better than others, he noted, as Aang chewed on the lychee nut that was, theoretically, their Knotweed tile. 

“That’s the White Lotus,” Lu Ten said, taking it back. Pai Sho was not a game they had in the Southern Water Tribe, but Sokka had been very eager to learn the game of strategy and had much more patience for it than Lu Ten had when he’d first begun playing with his father. “You can only move it two spaces, but it can form a harmony with any other piece, not just the red tiles.”

“That’s neat, I guess.”

He set the tile back down on the board. Sand and dust had begun to collect in the cracks along the board surface. It had been a while since he’d used it this much.

“That’s a harmony.” 

“It’s next to _ my _ rose tile.”

Lu Ten nodded. “The White Lotus can form a harmony with any piece, even that of your opponent. That move I just did, it’s called the White Lotus gambit. You interrupt your opponent’s chain by forming a harmony with one of their key pieces. My father used to-”

He was cut off by the squealing cry of a hawk. Lu Ten stood up, holding out an arm to accept it. Small talons bit into his arm. He drew out the letter from it’s back, squinting at the seal. A flower with five petals dipped in hot wax.

“What is it?” Aang asked.

“It’s the White Lotus. The organization.”

“What does it say?”

He shook off the hawk, which jumped over to a nearby perch. 

“There’s a village nearby,” he read. “The Fire Nation blockade is keeping them from getting medical supplies.” 

“That’s horrible,” Katara said. “We have to help them.”

“What we  _ have  _ to do is find Aang an Earthbending teacher,” Sokka folded his arms over his chest.

“Those people need our help!”

“And the  _ world  _ needs the Avatar.”

“Sokka’s right. You need to find Aang an Earthbending teacher,” Lu Ten rolled the scroll back up. “Which is why I’ll go alone.”

“But I still need to learn Firebending; I can’t defeat the Fire Lord by making tea at him.”

“You could poison him with that tea you made yesterday.”

“I’ll meet back up with you,” Lu Ten said. “Here,” he pointed to the map. “Three days, okay?”

He left the Pai Sho board with the three of them.

* * *

They had picked up a new member in his absence. They had also apparently lost said new member and then found her again, and at no point in the process thought to inform her that the person they were planning on meeting was going to walk like Fire Nation military.

“I don’t apologize,” she said, as he untangled himself from the stone. “These buffoons didn’t tell me you were going to sneak up on us in the most conspicuous way possible.”

“Also referred to as walking up normally.”

“Yeah, yeah, your royal spyness,” she waved a hand. “Weren’t you supposed to be some kind of master of stealth?”

Lu Ten glanced at the rest of the team, who had elected to watch this interaction from a safe distance. 

“Only comparatively.”

She smiled like he’d passed some kind of test. They were going to be friends, he decided.

“Well, your old friend from the Fire Nation apparently didn’t have too much trouble finding us,” Sokka noted, approaching now that Lu Ten was done being thrown against a tree.

“What friend?” 

“He didn’t really introduce himself.”

“Mostly he threw fire at us,” Aang added helpfully. “But he said he was looking for you.”

“Short guy,” Sokka said, holding up a hand to indicate a height that was approximately equal to his own. “Very angry. He was almost eerily quiet when he was sneaking up on us, but after that kept shouting at us.”

“He said the Fire Lord sent him to arrest you for treason,” Katara said, her tone concerned. “He seemed pretty serious about it. He chased us for almost an entire night without stopping.”

Lu Ten swallowed. 

“I’m glad you’re all okay.”

“Yeah well,” Sokka leaned against a rock. “All in a day’s work for team Avatar.”

“Or night’s.”

(The conversation shifted, then, as Aang went on to explain that they had met Toph in an underground fighting ring, and somehow gained an enemy in the leader of said fighting ring. He had tried to kidnap her, only to be beaten in a stadium-sized earthbending fight which had been a no-contest beat-down of several fully trained Earthbenders by a blind twelve year old, who, while this story was being told, absently picked mud out of the space between her toes, and criticized everyone’s storytelling skills.

It wasn’t until later, when the light around them had faded, that Lu Ten went back to considering the unnamed assailant. It would have been naive to think that his treason at the Northern Water Tribe would go unpunished. He had expected his uncle to send hundreds of men after him, of course, but something about the way they had described this particular pursuer felt oddly familiar.)

* * *

One of the worst things about the Earth Kingdom, in Zuko’s opinion, was the dust. A thick, heavy blanket of it that covered every available surface from the fruit stands in the market to the clothes of the people shopping there. It wasn’t warmer than home, but the air was dryer, and the dust and sand just blew around, getting in his eyes, and undoubtedly the rest of his face if he hadn’t kept it covered.

It had been six years since he’d seen his cousin, and he hadn’t been sure he would recognize him.

These worries were unfounded. Lu Ten looked remarkably the same, even in Earth Kingdom clothing, and shorn hair. He held himself differently, his formal posture all but forgotten, and gestured while he talked, as if everything he said were some kind of fascinating story. He was smiling. At ease with the people around him, who in turn, seemed at ease with him. And watching from the merchant’s stall, Zuko found himself compelled by something uglier than duty.

_ You’re a good kid.  _ He’d told Zuko the last time they’d spoken.  _ Take care of your sister.  _ His fingers curled absently for the scarf tied over the lower half of his face. He did not let them come to rest, however, and let his hand drop in a fist. 

There were too many of them for him to fight at once. He’d already made that mistake. He just needed to wait for a break in their ranks. Lu Ten paused, examining a stall hosting clothing in several brightly dyed colors, and motioned to the water tribe boy, drawing him over, before jokingly nudging him in the ribs and nodding to one of the scarves hanging from the ceiling. The boy made a dramatic, and likely also joking, scowl, and nudged him back, while the earth bender girl, just in earshot snickered into her hands.

And it was watching them that he missed the chittering, their lemur approaching him from the ground, making a noise. Zuko jumped, and looked, thankful that the group seemed mostly distracted. He dropped to a crouch.

“Quiet.” He said to the lemur, who had turned to return to his owner, presumably. Zuko was not in the mood to be detected, and grabbed the squirming animal, and dropped it into a nearby pot, unceremoniously shoving the ceramic lid down on top of it. The lid shook, and he scanned the rest of the stall, looking for something to hold it down with. Finding nothing, he instead picked up the pot itself and turned it upside down, setting a ceramic bowl on top of the overturned base.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly to the pot. “This isn’t personal.”

( _ It’s a lemur _ , he could hear Azula in his mind.  _ It can’t understand you, and it doesn’t matter. _ )

“Has anyone seen Momo?” The Avatar asked, looking around.

“He’ll be back. He’s probably just stealing food from somewhere.”

“We’re supposed to leave soon,” the boy shook his head. “We need to find him.”

There were a few moments of internal discussion, with a bit of gesturing, before the group split up. Zuko exhaled slowly, and readjusted the scarf around his face, before slipping away from the ceramics stand, and down another row of stalls behind Lu Ten. Once he was sure the others were out of earshot, he positioned himself, blocking the end of the row, and allowed a small flame to flick to life in his palms.

One of the shoppers near him gasped and jumped back.

“Firebenders!”

Lu Ten spun around, hands up.

“Wait - what?” He spotted Zuko, and slowed, his weight shifting slightly into a fighting stance. There was a blankness to his look; he did not recognize his cousin.“You. You’re the one who's been tracking my friends, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been tracking  _ you, _ ” Zuko said. “I was sent to apprehend the traitor, Prince Lu Ten of the Fire Nation.”

The combination of the phrases “prince” and “Fire Nation” was enough to send those nearby into a nervous titter, most of them backing away, or drawing whatever objects were nearby as weapons in hopes of defending their wares. 

“Who are you?” Lu Ten asked. He was looking at Zuko strangely like he was trying to place his voice.

(“Why are you  _ scared,  _ Zuzu?” Azula put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, even though she herself was standing a solid ten feet from the water’s edge and seemed to have no intention of getting any closer. “It’s just the ocean. It can’t hurt you.” 

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you go in?” 

“I’m just thinking.” Thinking about that picture book of unique and interesting animals his mother had given him, and the picture of the unagi, a giant eel that fed on elephant koi and, potentially, seven year old fire nation princes. 

“Don’t strain yourself,” Azula said haughtily, still making no move to get closer. Zuko knew she’d seen the book, too, and had, in fact, borrowed it several weeks ago under the pretenses of showing pictures to Mai and Ty Lee and had not given him any indication she meant to return it. 

“What seems to be the problem?”

Lu Ten crossed over to them, water lapping harmlessly at his ankles. He would be leaving for the war in a few months, along with Uncle. He would be gone for three years, only to return for a few months before leaving again, this time, presumably, for good. Uncle would not come back at all.

“Zuzu’s afraid of the ocean.”

“I’m not!”

“He is! He won’t get in the water.”

“Neither will you!”

Lu Ten glanced between them, grinning. 

“There’s nothing wrong with healthy caution,” he said offering one hand to Zuko, and another to Azula. “Why don’t we all head in together. It’ll be very difficult to be eaten by whale-sharks if we’re all together.”

“There aren’t any whale-sharks off Ember Island,” Azula sniffed, but took a few steps forward and grabbed Lu Ten’s offered hand. 

“Of course,” he nodded. “Zuzu?”

Somehow, the nickname felt much less insulting whenever he said it. Much more fond.

“I’m nearly done with training,” he said as they waded in, tentatively. “And I promise on my honor I will not allow any sea monster to harm my favorite cousins.” 

“We’re your only cousins,” Azula pointed out. It was a bit of an old argument. Lu Ten seemed to understand her objection to be that calling his only cousins “favorite” was redundant, but Zuko suspected that she found their being lumped together to be highly insulting. 

“You’d be my favorites even if I had others.”

“You don’t know that,” she said. “There’s no way you’d pick Zuko if you didn’t  _ have _ to.” 

“Hey!”

Azula stuck her tongue out at him. Lu Ten looked like he was trying exceptionally hard not to laugh. 

“You’re both my favorite,” he managed around a smile. Zuko mirrored it, squeezing his cousin’s hand a bit tighter. “I won’t let anything hurt you.)

“I’m the one who is going to end your treason. For good.” He curled his hands into fists and struck outward. Lu Ten broke the fireblast with a snap of his arms, the sparks dissipating harmlessly into the air.

“In that case,” he said. “You might need to try a bit harder.”

Zuko obliged. They circled each other, striking forwards and deflecting in turn. Footsteps thudded behind them.

“Lu Ten!” He heard the Water Tribe girl. “Momo was trapped, I think it’s a -” her eyes fell on Zuko. “Trap.”

“Yeah,” Lu Ten said, dodging another fireblast. “I noticed.”

Zuko growled in frustration, sending a flying kick upwards which lit the fabric overhanging a nearby fruit stall. The snap of water against his back sent him stumbling forward, hitting the ground gracelessly.

“Let’s go,” the girl said.

They broke out into a run. Zuko stood up, dusting off the front of his clothes, and broke into a sprint after them, weaving through the crowded streets. He angled a fireblast at the ground, startling those nearby into clearing a path.

“Get out of the way!” he snapped. Most of the shoppers did not require much more convincing than that.

He turned a corner and ran almost directly into Lu Ten, who was poised to continue fighting.

“Leave these people alone,” he said, jerking his head to the side. Zuko jumped up, planting a kick in the center of his chest, forcing him to break his grip. 

“I won’t have to if you’d come with me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Lu Ten said. Perhaps it was more subtle in his head, reaching back to grab a stick from a nearby stand and raising it, but Zuko was familiar with both swordsmanship and opponents who attacked without warning. He spun, slicing the stick into three even pieces, before taking the moment of distraction to shove them forwards, the blades making a neat angle on either side of Lu Ten’s neck.

Zuko glared upwards, trying to ignore the fact that his opponent had in the very least a head on him, and hoping that this fact in no way diminished the effectiveness of his threats. Lu Ten did not look particularly threatened. He looked more confused than anything, his expression concerned and unsure.

“Do I-”

A wave of earth slammed into Zuko’s side, throwing him to the ground. His swords skittered out of reach, and he hit the ground with a grunt, his scarf slipping upwards to nearly block his eyes. Growling, he yanked the fabric off and struggled upwards before being knocked again, this time by a blast of air that sent him careening into a cabbage stand, the wood siding snapping from the impact, and the vegetables rolling out across the ground.

“Let’s go,” he heard the water tribe boy say. Lu Ten was not looking at him.

“Zuzu?”

Zuko snapped his hand forward, fireblast hitting the wooden pole next to Lu Ten’s head. His cousin allowed himself to be dragged off by his friends. 

Zuko dusted himself off, and wrapped his face again, sliding his swords back into place in an x across his back. 

* * *

“Wait, you mean - that’s your  _ cousin  _ Zuko?” 

Lu Ten had told them stories about his cousins before, though the way he described them had led Sokka to believe they were much younger. And much less evil. 

* * *

The Agni Kai had gone like this: Acting Fire Lord Ozai had received word from the soldiers who managed to escape the siege of the Northern Water Tribe that Prince Lu Ten of the Fire Nation had defected to join the enemy during the aforementioned siege. Such an act of treason was enough to back a proposal to cut a person from the line of succession, which led to, within a week, a coronation wherein Acting Fire Lord Ozai became simply Fire Lord Ozai.

Given the relevance of the subject of succession in the Fire Nation at that time, Fire Lord Ozai made a few, surely innocuous, comments towards his youngest daughter, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, about being positioned  _ after  _ her older brother, and how he might approve a reversal of this order, should Zuko be coaxed into a formal duel. (There was precedent for this sort of thing, after all.) 

(Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, was, by many accounts, something of a disappointment to the Fire Lord. It would be better for the nation were he to be removed from the line. However, he was not obligated to accept a challenge for an Agni Kai from his sister.)

Princess Azula and Prince Zuko were then sent, together, on a diplomatic mission to one of the Fire Nation’s primary weapons manufacturers, a factory located near a small village on the outskirts of the Fire Nation. While they were there, Prince Zuko ventured into the town and became distressed regarding the state of the villagers, who were suffering from a contaminated water supply. He recommended that the factory operations be shut down immediately to address the problem. The weapons produced by the factory were important for the Fire Nation military, Princess Azula disagreed. The villagers should be proud of their town’s commitment to their country. Prince Zuko was of the opinion that it mattered little if the villagers were proud if they were also  _ starving. _

Sensing an opportunity, Princess Azula suggested an Agni Kai to settle the dispute. This was not the first time it had been suggested. It was the first time, however, that it was agreed upon. 

They agreed to fight to incapacitate.

(“Scared I’ll kill you, Zuzu?” Azula asked when he insisted upon the stakes.

_ Every day of my life.  _ “Of course not.”)

Princess Azula found lightning to be an effective method of incapacitation. 

At this point, accounts of the event began to differ. By one account, the extra fire blast was for flourish, before she’d truly realized the extent of her last blow. According to some others, the princess stood over her brother’s twitching body, watching with an absent sense of fascination before looking up to her father, who gave her a subtle, private signal. Still others would say that no such exchange occurred and that the strike had been done of her own volition, spitefully, while someone in the crowd ran for the medic. 

It could never be agreed upon as to whether the princess had been laughing or crying or making no expression whatsoever. 

* * *

The longest and angriest Zuko had ever been with Azula, before their Agni Kai, had been when he was twelve, and she was ten, and she’d decided to crush all of the turtleduck eggs in the palace garden with a rock. She couldn’t remember exactly after the fact what he’d done to make her angry, or if she’d even really been angry at  _ him  _ to begin with. 

What she did know was that Zuko cared about them, and that he got upset when they were hurt, and that making Zuko upset was very, very fun. Zuko wasn’t like Mai, who would keep her emotions locked down so much that sometimes Azula wondered if she even cared, or Ty Lee, who would shower her with compliments and smiles so bright that Azula didn’t think she ever got upset at all. Something about Zuko was raw and exposed, and he cried when he was hurt, and snapped when he was angry, and usually came back to her to make amends, even when she’d provoked him.

(Later, she would hear that at one point, someone whom Zuko trusted very deeply had told him to take care of her.)

They had been further along in development than she’d supposed, and she’d been surprised to find the rock came up bloodied after the first strike. It was less of a shock the second time. When all that was left of them was a set of goopy, bloody masses amidst cracked eggshells, she’d set the rock back down next to the tree, and left. This was the sort of thing that Mom would scold her for doing, but Mom wasn’t there anymore. 

Zuko didn’t talk to her for three weeks after that. He didn’t respond when she needled him, nor did he yell at her when she took the rock she’d used to kill the turtleducks and left it on his bed. At the end of the three weeks, he finally walked into her room and sat down on the bed, hugging a pillow close to his chest like a shield. He always had to be so dramatic. 

“There’ll be more turtleducks next year. You can wait, dum-dum.” It was the closest she’d ever gotten to an apology. 

He shook his head. “No, there won’t be. The Mom’s not going to come back. You destroyed all her eggs, Azula. She knows this isn’t a safe place for her babies anymore.”

“Good,” she’d said.

For some reason, Azula found herself remembering that conversation when she listened at the doorway, while Dad spoke to Zuko after the Agni Kai. She heard the slice of the knife against his topknot. It was symbolic, for being removed from the typical order of succession. To be cut out by circumstances other than death was disgraceful, but then again, Zuzu had always been a disgrace.

* * *

The library had been a bad idea. Lu Ten should have put a stop to it the second he’d heard what the plan was, but admittedly, he’d been distracted ever since they’d escaped the market. Escaped  _ Zuzu  _ in the market. Whenever he tried to sleep, the image of his cousin, sitting dazed against the broken cart, staring at him like a stranger, reappeared in his mind. 

He hadn’t looked at all like the overeager ten year old of Lu Ten’s memory. The bandages on his face, covering his right eye and the skin between it and his ear, meaning whatever had caused him to wear them was either very recent or very bad. His hair was short, dusting his forehead, and his clothes were informal and unadorned with any sort of crest. Each of these factors on their own was concerning, and together they began to form a picture that Lu Ten did not like at all. 

Zuko must be sixteen now.

When they’d left him, he’d been completely alone.

_ Lu Ten  _ had left him and Azula alone six years ago, only to do it again. 

_ Agni,  _ he hadn’t even recognized his cousin’s  _ voice.  _

So he’d been distracted. They’d gone to the library. And he’d been blindsided again.

They were looking for information on the Fire Nation. Lu Ten was looking for some obscure rule or historical precedent that might allow him to regain the throne, despite Ozai’s decrees and his own not-so-secret treason. A few aisles away, Sokka was looking for information they could use if Lu Ten’s research was not fruitful. Information on how to effectively  _ attack  _ the Fire Nation. 

There was a clatter of scrolls, and Lu Ten’s eyes snapped up from the treatise he was reading. Sokka was standing at the edge of the aisle, his posture… strange. He was clearly holding something behind his back, but equally clearly attempting to conceal it.

“What is it?”

“I was just, um - wondering how your research was going? Any interesting info on Fire Nation politics?”

“Nothing yet,” he said carefully.

“Hey, did you know Aang was left-handed in a past life, that’s neat, right?”

“Sokka.”

He dropped the haphazard grin and handed Lu Ten a scroll. It looked newer than most of the others. Something in his chest constricted like it was trying to prepare himself for learning something he did not wish to know.

“Zhao knew about the Moon Spirit because of something he read here,” Sokka said. “For it, he traded information that only a few people would know.”

“It’s about the Fire Nation?”

“Kind of,” he rubbed at his elbow. “It’s uh - it’s about your Dad.”

(Lu Ten and his father on Emerald Isle in the summers, playing on the sands and attempting to build a fortress from them that could withstand the persistent attacks from the water tribe – the waves grasping along the shoreline – and failing miserably; Father stealing him aside from training to learn how to make tea or read maps or play Pai Sho; Father volunteering to take Zuzu and Zuli on an ostrich horse ride at the Fire Festival when his Uncle refused to-–)

“What about him?”

“You said,” Sokka paused. “You said that he tried to call for a ceasefire, but was killed by one of his men.”

“Yes.” It sounded strangled, and Lu Ten suddenly found himself unable to look down at the scroll he’d been handed.

“He didn’t act alone,” Sokka said. “The soldier. He was hired.”

“I … I always suspected-”

“He was hired by the Fire Lord. Fire Prince, then. I guess. Your Uncle Ozai.”

He could hear the unintelligible whispers of Aang and Katara a few aisles over. Other than that, everything was deathly silent.

“Lu Ten, I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes, grip tightening on the scroll until he felt a familiar heat between his hands. The paper was burning, and he could not bring himself to do anything about it.

(Father carefully sitting down on his bed, telling some story about the spirits in a soft voice, while the spot on the other side was noticeably vacant and cold, and not quite meeting his eyes when he asked where Mother was, and if the baby was okay; Father helping him into his armor before he set out for military training; Father’s letters after the incident that he hadn’t read for months–)

“Lu Ten?” He looked up.

“Just - give me a few minutes, okay?”

The fire kept burning.

“Yeah, okay. There’s some stuff Aang and I are going to look into. I just thought … you should know.”

He was not sure how much time passed after that before the ground beneath him began to crack.

* * *

Whenever he pictured Ba Sing Se in the years following his father’s death, the city had seemed an indomitable fortress, something dark and foreboding, with statue-esque guards at every entrance and closed, drawn curtains in every window. While the city itself was very different, it was no less off-putting, with the neatly kept streets in the upper ring and their constantly smiling guide persistent in their  _ wrongness.  _

Lu Ten’s uncle had paid to have his father killed. His formerly-precocious cousin was stalking them across the Earth Kingdom to throw him in prison, or  _ worse.  _ They had lost Appa. Aang needed to finish his Earthbending training, and they would be invading his home in less than a month. 

And they were not being allowed to see the Earth King.

Lu Ten had sent out a notice in an attempt to attract the attention of any nearby White Lotus members who might be able to help them gain an audience. Katara, Aang, Toph, and Sokka were pursuing a slightly different avenue in the meantime that, according to Toph, “definitely didn’t involve crime.” 

(He decided it was probably best he didn’t know. He had settled comfortably into the “indulgent older friend” persona and wasn’t quite sure he’d be prepared to use a parent voice if the need arose, or even if it would do anything if he did.)

Somehow, he found himself seated inside a tea shop, sipping a cup of oolong that, in all honesty, was a disgrace to the art of tea-making. (“Tea must be crafted with care and appreciation, otherwise it is nothing more than hot leaf juice,” his father used to say.)

“Traitor.”

Lu Ten looked up. His cousin was standing just beside the opposing booth, two large swords crossed over his back. The bandages he’d been wearing in their previous fight were gone, revealing a burn scar, flushed and deep, covering nearly half of his face. The other half was glaring.

“Zuzu.”

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, and for a moment sounded like himself. 

“What happened to you?”

“I was sent by the Fire Lord to bring you to justice. You can come with me willingly, but I will bring you home regardless.” He nodded slightly after he said it like the speech had been rehearsed.

“You know I can’t do that,” he said. “Let’s just talk. Would you like tea? I can order you tea.”

“I don’t  _ want _ tea! I want you to  _ surrender _ .”

Lu Ten nodded. “Probably a good call. The tea here is a bit underwhelming.”

“I don’t care about tea!” If any of the other patrons found this a strange thing to half-say half-shout in the middle of a tea shop, they didn’t do much about it beyond cast displeased looks in their general direction.

“Okay,” he held up his hands. “No tea. But we should talk.”

“We aren’t talking. You’re under arrest.”

“This is the Earth kingdom,” he said patiently. “You can’t arrest me here. How did you even get into the city?”

“Come with me now, and no one has to get hurt.”

Lu Ten set the tea down, his expression hard. “You aren’t going to hurt anyone here, Zuko.”

Zuko held eye contact for all of two seconds before glancing away. “I won’t if you don’t make me.”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

He slid out of the booth, and took a step towards the door, grabbing his cousin’s elbow to lead him in that direction. Zuko yanked his arm back, smoke seeping thing closed fists.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Calm down. It’s okay. We can talk.

“There’s  _ nothing _ I want to talk to _ you _ about.” The venom with which he said it shouldn’t have been surprising. Shouldn’t have cut the way it did. 

“Nothing? We haven’t seen each other in years,” Lu Ten tried again for casual, rifling through a mental list of things he remembered about his cousin. He held up his hands as if to calm a wild animal. “Seems like you’re still practicing with the swords, which is cool. How is Zuli?”

Instead of responding verbally, Zuko turned and struck a fireblast into a nearby table. The patrons sitting there yelped and jumped back, knocking several teacups and slamming their chairs back into those of other customers.

“Either you’re coming with me or we’re fighting.”

“I can’t come with you, Zuzu.” 

He wasn’t going to hurt his cousin. He  _ wasn’t _ , he  _ wouldn’t _ . But an unchecked firebender in a wooden tea shop was the recipe for collateral damage, and he had to stop it. 

(“You hold his head like this,” Aunt Ursa told him, showing him how to reposition his arms. “Babies are fragile. You have to be careful.” Lu Ten wished someone had thought to tell him that  _ before  _ he picked up his cousin. He curled his arms a little tighter around Zuzu and bit his lip, nervously looking at his aunt.

“Can you take him back?” he said. “I don’t want to break him.” Next to Aunt Ursa, Father laughed lightly into a cup of ginseng tea. 

“You’re doing a great job,” she said, teasingly mussing his ponytail. “See?” she gestured to Zuzu, who was now curling a tiny fist around Lu Ten’s finger. “He likes you.”)

Zuzu had learned a lot in six years, and he fought without reservation, like his life depended on it. He was the pure kind of focused that tuned out the world entirely. And perhaps that was how the both of them completely missed the approaching Earth Kingdom guards until they were thrown apart across the courtyard and their hands bound with solid rock. 


	4. Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lu Ten returns to the Fire Nation.

The Dai Li apparently had no established protocol for a ten-ton flying bison breaking through the wall of their prison. The guards looked equal parts horrified and flummoxed, which provided a decent enough distraction for Aang and Katara to break through the chains binding Lu Ten to the wall.

“You found Appa!” he said.

Aang beamed. “He was being held near you, actually. If this isn’t enough to get us an audience with the Earth King, I don’t know what is.”

“Less chatting, more flying!” Sokka beckoned towards the three of them.

“How did you find me?”

“The guard mentioned they’d just captured two firebenders,” Katara said. “We assumed one of them had to be you.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Wait.” He stopped before mounting Appa, letting his hand rest on the bison’s fur.

“What is it?”

“I need to get Zuko.”

“What? Your evil cousin who keeps trying to kill us?” 

“Sokka!”

“It’s what we all were thinking!”

“Is he here?” Katara ignored him. She was well-practiced in the art. 

“He attacked me and we both got arrested for Firebending.”

“And you still want to - oh nevermind. I give up.”

“I know, I _know,_ okay?” Lu Ten held up his hands pleadingly. “But he’s still my cousin, and I’m not going to leave him.” Not again.

“What if he attacks us?”

“He won’t.” Admittedly, he was not sure on this point.

“Even if he does,” Toph smacked a fist against her palm. “We can take him.”

For some reason, this did not inspire much confidence. 

* * *

Zuzu was silent the entire ride back to the house, and continued to sit, slumped and sullen until Lu Ten guided him into the kitchen. They had elected not to remove his handcuffs. The decision had been one shy of being unanimous, and even Lu Ten had to admit that it was probably for the best.

“We’ll, uh, give you two some space,” Aang said after a moment.

“Let us know if he tries anything.”

Lu Ten nodded once but smiled at Zuko in an attempt to convey that he had nothing to be worried about. The silence continued, as did his scowl.

“I’m going to make tea,” Lu Ten said, finally. Rising to head towards the kitchen. “Jasmine or green?”

“I don’t care.”

He vaguely remembered drinking green tea with his cousins back in the Caldera. He filled the kettle and brought it back to the table, holding it between his hands while the metal warmed. 

“Are you hurt?”

No response.

“Zuzu,” he said, trying his best to look at his cousin’s eyes rather than the massive burn scar taking up the majority of his face. “Are you hurt?” 

“You mean aside from the obvious?” And yeah, he kind of deserved that. “Why would you even care? I’m your enemy.”

“You’re not my enemy, Zuzu. Of course, I care about you.”

“You _left_ me!” his eyes snapped up, fire flickering in golden irises. “Is _that_ how you treat people you care about?”

(Sometimes, in nightmares, Kokoro asked him the same question.)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” Zuko said, with the tone of someone to whom it mattered quite a bit. “What are you going to do with me?”

“What?”

Zuko looked at him like he was very, very stupid.

“I’m your _prisoner._ ”

“You aren’t a prisoner.”

The handcuffs rattled.

“That’s just so you won’t attack us.”

“So I can leave if I want, provided I don’t attack you?”

“Well… no.”

“So I’m a prisoner.” 

“Zuzu, I want to _help_ you.”

“The only way you can help me is by surrendering and coming home with me. Otherwise, you might as well just execute me or hand me back over to the Earth King or whatever it is your new _friends_ are planning to outvote you on.”

“They would never - I wouldn’t let that happen. No one here is going to hurt you, okay? The situation is… complicated. But I - I’m your _cousin._ We’re _family._ ”

“You say that like it _means_ something. I know _exactly_ what family does to each other.”

His first thought was of his father. Of his uncle. And perhaps, yes, family was not a be-all, end-all, but something about the way his cousin said it, raw and bitter, felt undeniably personal. The teapot in his hands felt a bit too warm to properly brew green tea. 

“What do you mean by that?” he said it quietly, in his head, at least, but the words sounded strange.

Zuko continued to glare, but his jaw was tensed in that way that made it clear he was straining to maintain the expression in lieu of another.

“Zuzu – what happened to you?” _Who_ happened to you?

“It’s your fault,” the handcuffs thudded against the table, and Zuko would not meet his eyes. He was looking out the window at the sky that should not have been nearly as clear and cloudless as it was in that moment. “ _You_ told me to take care of her.”

“Zuli – what do you mean? She’s your sister. She–”

“She threw a fireblast _at my face_!”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean–”

“Didn’t mean to?” Zuko was both standing and shouting now. “Azula _never_ does anything she doesn’t mean to.”

“You’re being unfair–” And he realized as soon as he said it that it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to have not said it, and the tea in his hands began whistling, which was wrong because you weren’t supposed to boil green tea, his father had always taught him

“Unfair?” Zuko’s voice nearly cracked on the word. “ _I’m_ being unfair?”

“No,” Lu Ten swallowed. “No, that’s not what I – tell me what happened. _Please._ You’re right. I don’t _know._ I’m sorry. Okay? I’m _sorry._ Please just – please talk to me. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Whatever you want, okay? Just, you can sit down. I’m going to throw this out,” he swallowed. “And start again.”

Zuko was breathing hard, and there were scorch marks on the table where his hands had been. It took him a few moments, but he sat down, adjusting so he was cross-legged on top of the chair. It was a move Lu Ten recognized. Meditation could be used to keep one’s bending in check when they are under emotional duress. 

Tea-making could be used for a similar purpose. It was almost eerily silent the entire time he took making the tea, standing in the kitchen, his heart hammering in his chest. When he set down two cups, Zuko wordlessly took one. 

* * *

A few hours later, after conferring with the team regarding their plans to win the support of the Earth King, Lu Ten returned to his cousin. Admittedly, they probably should have discussed exactly how they planned on holding a prisoner prior to obtaining one, which combined with the relatively open floor plan of the house, resulted in Zuko being chained to the kitchen table in a central location that allowed them all to monitor him, but also made having private conversations somewhat difficult.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” He was clearly lying. 

“Here.” Lu Ten pushed the bowl of fruit on the table in his direction. After a moment’s hesitation, Zuko picked up a singular cloudberry.

“Do you want to talk?”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I can get out Pai Sho, I guess. I’m sure you’re bored.”

Zuko said nothing to that. Lu Ten retrieved the board and set it out in front of him, dividing the tiles and shoving a few in his cousin’s direction.

“You remember how to play, right?”

“You’re a traitor to your family and the Fire Nation,” Zuko said flatly. Then, after a moment. “Yes.”

They continued in silence. It was not a particularly good game; Zuzu favored the same basic strategy he had when they’d played back when he was little and had a tendency to over-commit to ideas that weren’t working. Lu Ten was incredibly distracted. He laid down several tiles incorrectly in obvious mistakes that would have lost the game to Sokka or Aang. 

“Round two?” he asked, after collecting the pot. Zuko shrugged. Lu Ten reset the board.

“My father and I used to play whenever he was stationed far away,” he said, mostly because the silence had become deafening. “I had a board set up in my room, and he had one in his tent, and we’d always write out our moves when we sent letters back and forth to each other.”

He set down the rose tile.

“He almost always won.”

“What do you think he’d think of you now?” That was meant to sting, but the cadence with which he said it was slightly off.

“I like to think he’d be proud of me,” Lu Ten answered honestly.

“Proud of you? For betraying your home? Your family? For _making peace_ with his killers?”

“I have no intention of making peace with my father’s killers,” he said, searching Zuko’s face, trying to meet his eyes. Zuko looked down, focusing on the board that he was clearly not paying attention to. “My father wasn’t killed by Earth Kingdom troops. He was killed by one of his own men.”

Lu Ten reached across the board. “Zuzu, that man was hired by _your father._ ”

“That’s not true!” Zuko looked up. “My father would _never –_ that’s _treason._ ” He shoved the Pai Sho board across the table and stood up, as the tiles skidded off the wood and ricocheted across the floor. “You’re trying to get in my head, and it _won’t_ work! That’s why you’re being nice. You want me to give you information about how to attack the Fire Lord, but I won’t. Even if I’m not his heir anymore, I would _never_ betray my father _or_ my country!”

One of the tiles rolled underneath the cabinet in the corner.

“What do you mean you’re not his heir anymore?”

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly and he clamped his jaw shut.

“Zuzu - did your father _disown_ you?”

That got a reaction. “No! It was _my_ fault, I shouldn’t have agreed to, it was _stupid_ but I thought I could prove, and then they’d _listen_ to me but I just – I –” his voice faltered and he stared downwards the next words scarcely a whisper. “I lost to Azula.” 

“Lost to Azula? What do you mean ‘lost to Azula’ – the only way for that to be binding would be,” Lu Ten stopped talking for a moment, and wondered suddenly why his voice was so loud and the world was so quiet and something seemed wrong there. “You and Azula had an _Agni Kai_?”

“There was this village and –”

“Your father approved an _Agni Kai_ between you and your sister?”

“He wanted her as his heir anyways,” Zuzu said quietly. “Didn’t you know? I’m a huge _embarrassment._ And I _humiliated_ him.”

“And that’s where she,” his voice trailed off, and he gestured to the side of Zuko’s face. Zuzu turned away. 

“I _lost,_ okay? Because I’m a _failure._ Who can’t even successfully bring back my own _cousin_ without getting taken prisoner.”

Lu Ten looked at the empty Pai Sho board. All of the tiles had slid off but one. He stood up and crossed to the table, silently unfastening the chains. 

“You’re not a failure, Zuz – Zuko.” 

His cousin stared at him, baffled, and rubbing his wrists almost self-consciously.

“I’m coming home with you.”

* * *

“So, obviously we’re following them, right?” 

“Obviously.”

“And with Appa, we’ll probably be going faster.”

“Probably.”

“How do we feel about picking up a couple of friends along the way, just in case, you know, things go badly in the homeland of our enemy where everyone and their hawk is trying to kill us?”

Katara glanced at Aang and Toph, who nodded in confirmation. 

“I don’t think that’s a bad plan at all.”

* * *

It was a cool night, and the wind that rolled off the water only served to make it cooler. Zuko sat on a crate near the edge of the deck, staring out into the water, and the point where the waves became indistinguishable from the horizon. 

He should feel relieved, no, ecstatic. He was going home with the prisoner in tow, just as Father had asked for him. Even if he hadn’t actually beaten Lu Ten in combat. Even if he’d lost control of the situation. Even if everything had gone wrong and he’d been reduced to near tears in the sunlit kitchen of his unnervingly not-hostile enemies. (Azula always said that the ends justified the means. Zuko saw no reason the sentiment could not be extended to embarrassments one might encounter along the way.)

The point was, he had won. He was going home. 

Zuko did not feel relieved.

* * *

It had been six years since Lu Ten had set foot in the Fire Nation, and some part of it seemed not quite real. Like he was conjuring up the buildings from memory, but his memory was imperfect, which is why everything looked ever so slightly different. 

Zuzu had had the handcuffs removed on the ship, and his cell was more room-ish than he’d expected. Beyond these indulgences, however, his cousin had avoided him for the majority of the trip home. When he came to collect Lu Ten after they came into the harbor, he looked no better rested than he had when they’d set off. 

Lu Ten offered his wrists. Wordlessly, the handcuffs were fastened.

“So we’re home,” he said, conversationally. 

“I guess so.” 

The gangplank hit the ground with a thud. Already, there seemed to be a crowd assembling. Zuko looked out over them, his expression tense, and uncomfortable. There was a line of guards outside, as well as a palanquin, and it occurred to Lu Ten for the first time that they were going to be separated.

“Zuzu, wait.”

Zuko looked back at him.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.” 

“What?” he looked more confused than anything. 

“When I left, I thought I was doing the right thing. It _was_ the right thing. At least, I think so. I was able to do a lot of good, and help a lot of people. And it’s not something I regret or am ashamed of. But I also left you, and I didn’t think about what that would mean. About what kind of position that would put you in. You were just a little kid,” he swallowed. “And I should have paid more attention.”

The silence between them was strange, a combination of heavy, and a kind of fragile that might be brushed aside by the breeze.

“You didn’t do anything.” It sounded something like absolvement. Lu Ten shook his head.

“I should have done something.” The thud of boots echoed as the guards approached them. Zuko still looked like he was standing on a raft, unsure as to how he’d gotten there. 

“You’re a good kid,” Lu Ten said. “Take care of _yourself._ ”

Two guards grabbed his arms and began to forcefully lead him down the gangplank. As it groaned beneath them, he almost missed the soft, near-whisper with which Zuko responded.

“Luck.” 

* * *

Azula didn’t have anything she wanted to say to her brother, but she was certain there would be something he’d feel obligated to say to her. The gardens would be the first place he’d come to once he got back. She sat cross-legged by the turtle-duck pond, which had been sans-turtle-ducks for nearly four years now. Despite the palace gardens’ staff’s attempts to maintain the area, their absence has upset the small ecosystem, and there was a thin layer of algae covering the surface of the pond, making the formerly clean water look mottled and disgusting.

She tossed a rock into it, watching the layer of algae break around it.

The floorboards on the overlook groaned, and she looked up. Zuko stood there for a moment, saw her, and turned and left with little more than a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment. She stared at the empty space and then turned back to the water. 

The algae had reformed where she’d thrown the rock. And it made her a lot angrier than it should have. 

* * *

“Nice to see you, Uncle.”

Firelord Ozai was obscured behind flames, but they did little to obscure his look of distaste. Zuko stood like a statue a few feet to the side, his head bowed. The guards flanking Lu Ten forced him to his knees. 

“You are a traitor and a disgrace. Your treason at the North Pole will not go unpunished.”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t; yours certainly has.”

The flames jumped up higher. Zuko’s shoulders tensed.

“You hired the man that murdered my father so that you could take the throne for yourself,” Lu Ten continued. “And you want to talk to me about treason?”

“And now you’ve reduced yourself to throwing baseless accusations,” his Uncle’s words were clipped. “Guards.”

Lu Ten found himself hoisted to his feet, the tight chains uncomfortable around his wrists. Then the door to the throne room was thone open. A messenger ran through, breathing heavily, half-collapsing into a bow.

“Your majesty,” he said. “We’re under attack. Northern invaders.” Following this announcement, the floor to the palace rocked. Zuko’s eyes snapped up. Ozai rose. “It is imperative we get you to safety.”

Zuzu did not move, as if he were unsure he should follow.

“Zuko.”

“Yes, father?” There was hope in his voice.

Ozai’s expression was unreadable from this distance.

“See that this is finished.” He flicked his hand dismissively. “Guards, you know what to do.”

Which was the moment where the assembled company, nearly a dozen men, turned to face Lu Ten, sparks coming to life in their palms. 

* * *

The Fire Palace was an elaborate maze of hallways and openings, and while Sokka might admit, under duress, there was a certain aesthetic appeal to it, it was a nightmare to navigate sans guide, and he was pretty sure without Toph they would have all run, weapons ready, into a supply closet thinking it was the throne room. 

In retrospect, there was no way they could have missed the actual throne room. The doors clattered open to reveal the scene: several guards had formed a circle around Lu Ten, who was still very much handcuffed, and were poised to strike. He gripped his boomerang and readied it when suddenly Aang’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Wait.”

“What do you –”

One of the guards threw a fireblast at Lu Ten, who ducked and turned to avoid it, only to be grabbed by the arms and forcibly held in place, while the first guard prepared to strike again. He raised his hand, feet sliding into the stance that had become, for Sokka, synonymous with Firebending, and then collapsed forward, gripping his side. 

Lu Ten’s cousin, Zu _ko_ as they’d recently corrected, stood in the spot where the guard had been moments before, looking just as surprised as Sokka felt. Lu Ten looked at him, a small, hopeful smile spreading across the lower half of his face before he took advantage of the fact that all the guards were momentarily distracted and slammed a boot into the side of one of them holding his knee, rolling forwards and coming to stand next to his cousin. 

The way they fought together was as quick, and reflexive as how they fought against each other. Fluid, sharp movements, and flames moving so quickly it was difficult to decipher from whom they had come and towards whom they were directed. The guards around them began to fall, stumbling away or thrown backward.

Sokka’s hand moved away from his boomerang because even though they were still outnumbered, it was clear that no further interference would be required. Two cousins, back to back, their fighting combined naturally and oddly _harmonious._

As soon as the last guard fell, Zuko sank to his knees, shaking, in the center of the throne room.

“Zuzu?” Lu Ten ran over to him, crouching. 

“You always said we were your favorite cousins.”

“What?” 

“When we were kids. You called us your favorite cousins. And Azula would get so mad because we were your only cousins and it didn’t mean anything.” He swallowed. “But I always kind of liked it. I was never really anyone’s favorite anything.” 

Zuko glanced up and bit his lip.

“They were going to kill you.”

“I know,” Lu Ten said. 

“My father would have gone to the secondary safe room. It’s different than when you left. If you go to the end of the hall of portraits. Three stones from the right side of the wall, about halfway up. I used to sneak around. He doesn’t know I know where it is.”

Lu Ten stood up and offered him a hand. “You could show me?”

Zuko shook his head, looking down. “I – I’m not coming. I _can’t._ I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Lu Ten said. “I’ll come back. In the meantime,” he glanced at the door. “These are my friends. You can get introduced properly.” 

What he said next was quiet, as he leaned forward, and clearly only for his cousin to hear. Zuko nodded, before glancing at them assembled at the door. 

“Azula will be there.” 

Lu Ten headed back towards them. 

“Don’t you want back up?” Sokka heard himself ask.

Lu Ten placed a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the offer. But I think I need to do this alone.”

Sokka looked at Katara, who looked at Suki, who nudged Toph, who elbowed Aang in the side. _Hard._

“You’re friends with the _Avatar._ And you’re part of the team,” she said. “You’re not going to fight the Fire Lord by yourself.”

Lu Ten looked at them for a moment, before nodding once. “Okay.”

As they turned to leave, however, he pulled Sokka aside.

“I need you to stay here with Zuko.”

“What? Why?” Sokka glanced over at the Fire Nation Prince, who had yet to move from the floor. 

“The palace is under siege.” 

(He’d failed at protecting people before. Lu Ten knew it. He’d been there when Yue –)

“You’re the only one I trust. Please, Sokka.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I will.”

* * *

The room was slightly smaller than the throne room, equipped with minimalistic, but ornate furnishings. 

Which allowed for more room for nearly thirty guards to stand between Fire Lord Ozai and the door. At the front of said assembly of guards was Princess Azula.

(Lu Ten had not seen her in years. In his memory, he could only recall the three pitched giggles as she and her friends ran through the palace causing mischief. It was discordant with the look in Zuko’s eyes when he told him about the Agni Kai, raw and scared.)

“Azula,” he said. 

“Hello, cousin,” she smirked. “It’s been a while.”

She spread out her hands, flames flickering blue above her palms.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Lu Ten said. 

Her smile grew; her face shattering around it.

“That’s what Zuzu said.”

And then she threw a fireblast at him. The stone floor in front of Lu Ten rose, blocking it. He glanced behind him. Katara had pulled out her water whip.

“Go get your Uncle, genius,” Toph snapped. “We’ve got this.”

“I’ve got the guards,” Suki added, shifting into position, her fans catching the torchlight. “Go.”

* * *

Lu Ten circled his Uncle.

“You aren’t going to win.”

He grit his teeth.

“You had my father killed,” he said. “The throne, the crown, they should be mine. They don’t belong to you, and they never will.”

Ozai’s laugh was sharp and cool. “Yours, are they?”

“My father was a good man. He was trying to save people, to help people, including the Fire Nation. And you murdered him just so you could steal his throne.”

“Your _father_ would have continued the siege of Ba Sing Se until the city was nothing but ash if he hadn’t succumbed to cowardice the moment his beloved _son_ was in a small amount of danger. _You_ made him lose sight of his purpose.”

“What purpose? To destroy?” Lu Ten said. “My father knew the Fire Nation could be more, was _destined_ for more than that. And so do I. All we’ve been doing is destroying, leaving death and despair wherever we go. But I know there are good people here, and once you’re gone, we will begin to try to make things right.”

“You sound just like him,” Ozai’s sneer deepened. “And you fight just like him. But your father was a much more powerful bender than you are, _nephew._ So you are going to die just like him as well, knowing all you’ve sacrificed means _nothing._ ”

* * *

The battle went like this: Prince Lu Ten of the Fire Nation was fighting Fire Lord Ozai on one side of the safe room. On the other side, Princess Azula was battling with Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, Avatar Aang, and Toph Bei Fong, with one or two of those three intermittently helping to disable the soldiers in the center of the room. (Though, for the most part, the soldiers were well handled by Suki of Kyoshi Island.)

If anyone who knew Princess Azula, or in the very least had observed her with any amount of concern regularly, had been there, they might have said her general appearance and demeanor were slightly off from the norm. That she was behaving erratically and fixating intently on disabling her opponents, as per her father’s request, and paying distinctly less attention to the fact that bending lightning in a small, enclosed space, was not a tactic reflective of her typical attention to detail. 

However, no such person was present. 

Three things happened nearly simultaneously. 

Azula threw a bolt of lightning at Aang.

Katara blocked said bolt of lightning by raising a wave of water in front of both herself and Aang before the latter bent the water backward at Azula who dodged it in a single fluid movement. 

Prince Lu Ten launched a kick at his uncle that sent him stumbling a few paces backward, into the aforementioned wave.

If Sokka had been there, he might have warned some of the relevant parties that water was a conductor of electricity.

* * *

And suddenly everything was both very loud and very quiet. Fire Lord Ozai seized, lightning coursing through his body. Lu Ten stumbled back, lowering his arms. Aang ran forwards, followed quickly by Katara, Suki, and Toph.

Azula turned and stared, tilting her head at the sight, transfixed, her body twitching with each breath, but her exact emotion impossible to decipher. Taking advantage of this moment, Toph encased her in stone with a swift motion. 

The Fire Lord was breathing but incapacitated. 

Lu Ten did not think it worth doing much beyond that. He ran after his cousin.

“Azula?”

She turned to look at him, struggling and breathing heavily, blue sparks falling from her lips.

“Azula,” Lu Ten said again. “It’s over.”

A blue column of flame sent him stumbling backward.

“I want to help you.”

“You want to see us dead,” she said.

“No,” Lu Ten held up his hands. “I want to help you.” 

Her breathing was uneven. He took a tentative step forward. 

“We used to take breaks together. Do you remember? We’d get tea cakes, and you told me about that game, er, training exercise you used to play?” She was staring at him now like the words did not quite make sense. “You and Zuzu and I. I want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.” She drew back from him.

“There won’t be turtleducks next year,” she spit the words out with a venom that seemed both spiteful and desperate. “It’s not a safe place for her babies anymore.” 

* * *

(He had meant what he said. He came to visit her often. Zuko did not.) 

* * *

The coronation occurred a week later, with Fire Lord Lu Ten alongside Avatar Aang, in full view of the world, declaring their intention to usher in a new era of peace. Not unlike his departure, the only member of his family in attendance was his elder cousin.

(Zuzu was not well, but he was better than he had been _._ )

“Fire Lord.”

Lu Ten smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“You’re going to have to,” Zuko said, frowning. “I’ve made a list of all of the world leaders who you’re going to need to invite to peace talks, and most of them won’t be interested in coming unless you first offer a gesture of goodwill to prove your sincerity, and there’s a list for those too, and a lot of it involved communicating with –”

“Zuzu,” Lu Ten said. “Breathe.”

“I _am_ breathing.” Zuko scowled. “If I wasn’t breathing, I’d be dead.” 

“We’re going to tea with my friends first.”

“ _You’re_ going to tea with your friends first.”

“Nope,” Lu Ten offered his arm. “We are. Trust me. They’re going to love you.”

“I attacked them multiple times,” Zuko said. He was still clutching the lists in front of him like a shield. “I don’t think they are going to want to have tea with me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lu Ten shook his head. In the very least, Sokka had been interested in having someone to talk swords with ever since Lu Ten had introduced him to Master Piandao. “Plus, you need friends your own age.”

“Just because we’re the same age doesn’t mean we’ll be friends.”

Lu Ten turned to face his cousin, ceding the point. “Okay, how about this? You come with me, and try for a bit, and if you’re uncomfortable, or you hate it, or you just want to leave, ask for your next tea with honey.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose. “Why would I want to ruin perfectly good tea?”

Lu Ten smiled at him, swallowing an uncomfortable rise of emotion in the back of his throat. “It’s something my father and I used to do. I’ll find you some excuse to leave. It’s a code.” He glanced at Zuko and ruffled his hair. His topknot, like Lu Ten’s, was held precariously in place by a large quantity of pins. “I think you and he would have gotten along.”

“You think so?” He sounded doubtful. 

“I know so.”

That hung for a moment in a thoughtful, but not unpleasant, silence. Lu Ten shook himself. 

“Tea, then?” he said nodding towards the door. 

“I guess so.” It was tentative, but it was a start. 

They walked together down the steps of the royal palace.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is the last part, I wanted to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos! 
> 
> This one was pretty out of my comfort zone in regards to the scale and number of characters involved, and I really appreciate everyone who took the time to read and offer feedback. You are all marvelous, and I hope you have an amazing day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!  
> Feel free to chat with me on Tumblr, @itsthenovelteafactor


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